It’s a con

My heart breaks daily, that I’m alive

I wake and everything is the same

I’m going demented with the sameness

It’s all a drain

The things I want – unreachable

The love and the joy is gone

People say that life is great

I say it’s a con


Filed under poetry

3 responses to “It’s a con

  1. I know the feeling. Do you have woods to get out to? Maybe do a blót or whatever? Getting back to my roots with Mother Earth always helps me.

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