365 Days of Poetry: Day Ninety-Seven

I haven’t been here in a week. Too much stress. Should have written but I didn’t. Catch up time tonight and tomorrow. Hope some are still listening.

depression is a beast.
eating from the inside out.
it remains unseen.
until it is too late–
too late for love.

the signs manifest themselves.
once the banner is reached.
and split with oversized scissors.
on opening day.

the flood comes.
natural disaster of the body.
shakes and quakes and
all mother bakes.
exploding across the skin.

control, control is found.
in pill, in bottle, in pipe.
in mind.
nothing built to end it.
but the will to live.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

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