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.