My latest original five-line poem.
Stem
the way depression pulls on your brain stem
to yank you back down when you’re up,
reminding you who is in charge here,
disseminating its fog, not as poison,
but a slow eroding of what once was.
Poem: Stem
Milam's Musings
“All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
Milam's Musings 
One thought