Whether you're wise or clever, is a problem not,
The problem is inside your head, dumb bloodclot.
You're anchored to bondage, for time non-stop,
And only the devil can free your soul, head rot.
The sun hurts your eyes in the morning, red raw,
And you don't get off your back too much, bed sore.
Whether you can break free is a debate, no more,
You've been chained to the pain for too long, get hacksaw.
It will take time and effort and what's left is thin,
Any plans you had will change with the weather, head spin.
Whether it rains or snows is not in your power, wet skin,
That empty feeling in your gut may get filled, from within.
Your life has been one long film script, Oscars no doubt,
And the demons that haunt your brain will linger, break out.
So get off your arse and let the pain begin, without,
That teddy bear womb feeling you've held on to for so long, check out.
Because without a change you're doomed for the bin, recycled no,
And that pain will seep through your skin, from deep below.
So you've tried and failed many times before, with sorrow,
But before you die from lack of spirit why not give it one more last go.
© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
This won The Creative Writing Groups bi-monthly Competition for Best Poem July 2022.
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