Ant Smith
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Mental Health Poetry


It will feel different, someday

Spring will have sprung as it always must
Mud will dry out and return to dust
Moist bodied creatures baked in the sun
Lazy dogs panting too tired to run

A caustic contusion of searing intrusions
A chaotic collision of slipping incisions
A chronic collusion of sightless illusions
A complex contraption my synaptic infactions

Hope springs eternal like a damn curse
Life repeats patterns, chapter and verse
Soft bodied creatures facing the sun
Nothing survives when all' said and done

It will be different, someday

Mental Health Poetry