by Anthony Jutz
(A poem related to recent events.)
The hollow spaces in between, They span so wide; what do they mean? Empty echoes, a broken bell; It sounds so lost, I know it well. The cold runs through me, Like ice, it's all I see. This place in my mind, It's a room that only I can find. Its walls are windows, or maybe doors. They reign so tall, through many floors. But from within, the view's so cruel. None the wiser, I am its fool. But the whispers, they call: Reminding me, this is not all. Depression is a foul beast, it blocks my view. Yet I'm not forsaken, I can make it through.
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