BrokenEchoes

  I will make it I will survive this slump This funk This valley, though dark Is not where I will end. I will climb out of this lowland I will stand on the mountain again Not today Not this week But it will happen

 

  Life has worn me down I am little more than a lump of anguish All of my joy has been taken Dispersed What I can find of it are tiny sprinkled remnants I starve for it I need it greatly, But it is lost And so am I.

 

 

  It is a chill windy morning Between the east Kentucky hills The faint, barely there scent of a looming storm Mixes with the heavy maple notes Wafting from the main street diner The sun has risen somewhere But she is unseen Still concealed by the mountains Or veiled by the whispery morning fog I am walking to work When I walk out at the end of the day, This world will have changed again I linger I take in the quiet morning I appreciate it. Then I walk inside.

  I have a deep unease squirming in my gut Wallowing in the sauces, flopping in the goop It causes me great discomfort and worry This small but growing threat must be dealt with Stilled, destroyed, or purged Before it can cause me further harm How though. It eats, and slithers and grows While I unsuccessfully search for a weakness A chink in its armor, a soft spot to attack If this goes on, I will be consumed And only the parasite will remain