Poetry

Sickness begone! Cast away thy shackles Remove my heart from thy clammy grasp Take thine aches and send them on Withdraw thy taint, thy bitter taste, The blunted needle from my temple. Away,

Morning Time it is to hang the light To break the fast, to take the step Time it is to loose the latch To breathe the air, to find the path Time it

Weird Weird is not a good place to start Invoking fear, and that which keeps us apart So, cloaking our true selves Pretending to be smart Choking on our thoughts and what lies

A gentle mist of rain falls No bird song, only breeze Fragile, moist, the moss calls Takes its moment Glistens in the trees Clammy warmth, from sky to soil Damp salve against the

Write of what you know, they said. So I wrote Of the voices In my head. 22/08/2022