Broken bones, tormented souls,
and everything in between.
Bound to bed, or head filled with dread,
One as bad as the other.
Besotted with hate, or riddled with aches
The black dog has many forms.
Among us many beings, sometimes blind
unto our seeing, the banes we come victim to.
Anxiously calling for the decks reshuffle,
praying for god to deal again.
Out of the dark and into the light,
a vision that might never be.
While we live near par, unsure of who we are,
there is only one expression that fits the picture.
Your health is your wealth and nothing else,
truer words can never be spoken.
Topic(s) of this poem: Hope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.