broken jar of clay

broken jar of clay Poems

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Pop In A Pill

By now it's a drill,
Pop in a pill,
Each night before bed,
To calm that head.

That body has changed,
Some functions deranged.
Those fleshly desires,
For months have retired.

A staple routine,
High doses intervene.

In the quest to suppress,
Every ache in that chest,
In the quest to prevent,
Recollection of events.

In the quest to anaesthesise,
The pain of knowing she was used,
In the quest to not comprehend,
Why she didn't see it beforehand.

In desperation to forget him, ...

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