My red knit sweater is unraveling …..,
though it....is not so Very old.
Some ‘Not-Very-Old' people do unravel,
or so at times I have been told.
It can start with no clear reason.
A minor change in habit, or in attitude.
Most would not say: 'Go see a shrink! '.
THAT would seem, to most, Very rude.
But then 'it' can quickly escalate.
Or it can simmer, can be subtle.
An unraveling mind may be sneaky,
when questioned can give a fine rebuttal.
I'm glad it's my Sweater that is My problem,
not my mind OR that of ……my dear mate.
Pills or counseling may help slow or stop 'it'.
But, for some, they don't help OR they're too late!
(January 5th, 2017)
bri. finally your sweater has come into your poem, ha-ha-ha-ha. interesting
that is NOT to say one should put complete confidence in drugs to treat mental illness! i have one friend...... (with mental illness; he lives alone in an apartment and is medicated and sees a therapist) ......who recently told me his friend......(also with mental illness and also living alone in an apartment) .....told her doctor the drug he was prescribing was not working as well as one she used to have better luck with. after a long time, the doctor finally prescribed her preference and she felt better. [maybe the doctor had some good reason to keep her on one drug for so long rather than the other? or, 'we' hate to think it, the doctor was profiting by promoting a company's 'new' drug? ? ]. and one of my ex-wives once was apparently over-medicated, supposedly taking the amount of a drug which her doctor prescribed (for depression i believe) and she was close to being non-responsive, at least verbally, in a social situation. when her dosage was reduced, her condition improved immensely. it ain't (always) as easy as popping a pill. ; ( bri :) the woman i refer to in my Poet's Notes told me here name was Julia. i went my way and she continued to ask people in town for a ride 40 miles or so outside of our town.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This woman is in a very sorry state, could hardly be worse. Darning a sweater is the sort of thing I would do, or sewing on buttons. A realist poem for sure.