April 14, 2012

They don’t understand (how
can they not understand?)

All the sweet singing spring
birds in the world can’t
disperse my gloom, my anxiety.

Those blues, greens, and
whites look gaudy mixed
like that. I find no joy in

couples strolling babies,
as if they’re bragging about
something. My mind has
to stay muddled or else
I’m mired in depression.

Do what I love? What’s that?
Truly, it’s nothing now.
Everything I loved I did with you.

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