A Battle in Your Mind

 

A future hangs upon a thread,

suspended by a clean white bed

that serves as platter for to feed

uncertainty in time or deed.

Sterile smiles bounce off walls

as footfalls trudge in spotless halls

where dreary thoughts loom large and lurk

by trolleys, for the reaper’s work.

 

A witness, I, upon this stage

of horror filled with burning rage

at god, or gods, if they be;

I curse them all for they can’t see

the pain they cause those close to me.

 

Consider this, immortal souls,

when you decide upon your roles

within this play that we call life,

his tiny wains, his grieving wife,

his dreams of more, not wanton greed,

but family love and earthly need

that you now seem to have forgot,

or do not miss what you had not.

 

Spare yet some thought for others, meek,

cursed with emotions to keep them weak

so you can revel in their pleas;

but wait not on such from me

for I refuse to bend my knees.

I vow to fight your wretched disease.

 

I’ll start to think some happy thoughts

so all your mischief is brought to nought

and feeling good will infect the ill

so they improve against your will.

Gladly they’ll stand free in mind,

beholden no longer to your kind

and smiling, gently force the doors,

to continue with their lives once more.

A.D.