In moments alone

(in my madness)

they revisit me --

memories emoted

from the depths

of the cerebral past

like slippery eels

slip away in the dark

leave me doleful

in the loneliness

of depression

powerless over both

the past and present.



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Wordman's picture

Pretty powerful stuff,

Pretty powerful stuff, memories dark have a way of doing that to you.

Nicely penned.