Poetry

Depression

Condensed, thick fog

Surrounds my brain

Useless hands hang idly by

We were talking about . . .

something . . .

Weren’t we? But have you

noticed how foggy it is today?

How it muffles the sounds

And it suffocates the sights

How it blurs the ability to take in

And halts the ability to extend out

We were talking about . . .

something . . .

Weren’t we? But have you

noticed the fog?

In honor of my Papa who passed away last year, January 14th, I will be re-posting my grief poems in the hopes that those who read these poems know that they are not alone and that our loved ones are not forgotten.

©KaylaAnnAuthor2020

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