Heartache.
Heartbreak.
I’d rather not be awake.
Isn’t it kinder to be muddled?
Easier to be befuddled?
All I want to do is cuddle
But you’re not here.
Anguish.
Languish.
Maybe I can just vanish the
Pain.
Lost in the misty morning rain,
Believing that anyone can feign
Normalcy.
Manic.
Panic.
Sinking like the Titanic
In a morass of self-delusion.
Creating a grand illusion.
Wanting to find a real solution.
Striving for happiness.
Nothing works.
I’m only lying to myself.
Books by Nanette Littlestone:
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