I do know the answer to that
To hide from my fear
To push it back down deep
Till the next time it returns to attack…
In the mirror there is nothing to see
Nothing more than a much darker me
Too many mirrors in this living place
Of me a mirror does not show any grace…
This poetry it seems
Is just me speaking to me
For walking & talking to the self
Can only get me in a rubber room
So write then of my fears I must
Till the darkness & fear gets past again, or just…
Newfie Hugs, Rose
Anna
medicine for this dilemma,
send in the clowns to ~Ed~
Lady Vivian
One day at a time, Ed.
Peace
Tony
Write what you feel, Ed. Writing poetry has been therapy for me without spending thousands.
Blessings,
~Linda
Some Demons must be Exorcised ... others PURGED!
TAKE 1 BOTTLE OF 'PHILLIPS MILK OF MAGNESIA' ... GURGLE, GURGLE ...
THEN, EMPLOY 1 'FLEET ENEMA' ... PURGLE, PURGLE ...
YEW WILL NO LONGER BE ... FULL OF **IT !!!
YER WELCOME - CUZ TK-THE MOSTEST !!!
I enjoy reading your daily diary and hope that at some point you will feel at peace with yourself and your writing.
Ron
Hang in there, man, it gets better.