He asked if I was writing War and Peace
Fool, I am writing a piece of the war, or living it perhaps…
With that nudge, I still won’t budge, so here are a few words to hush the void
Silence the truth, that time has been anything but kind
The rain refuses all requests for reprieve, depression is all I conceive
On the rarest of sunny days, my mind tells the stories my hands fail to write, and then come the mornings of anguish and writing unnecessary bits for monetary scraps
On this mother's day, I swallowed some eggs made by others, but the day is still not mine, it hasn’t been in such a long time, all I ask is that the sun does what I must each day, put in the work regardless of pay
Writing would ease my pain and soften the woe, but the misery refuses to go
Swallow your sugar and chew it too, for happiness is lost within you, until the bright bitch in the sky returns without an apology and once again gives you life
