A poem in honour of world mental health day


A WRITER’S FALL

Climb the hill
Slowly
For honesty quickly
Falls
When spirits are
Low
Open doors close
No more I
Am
You never really
Were
Corporeality is blind
Illusion
Displaced by thought
Intrusion
And the deluded
Existence
Of physical laws
Like an ass
Seeking a brain
Transfusion
Marked with a
Cross embedded in
Its back, a
Holy autograph, yielding
Comforting nuzzles of
self-
Affirmation

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