Stuck in the mud; the heart is a-thud.
Another dud.
The tightening throat; tangled in knots.
Edit, revise, delete, repeat.
Sticking in loops; nauseating mud soup.
Shattered mind in broken tongue; where had it all begun?
Shards slashing on the way down.
Dead letters nestling in; stinging nettles grow within.
Type again, reply, no don’t…
Wait, that’s wrong!
Too much? Too little? Too dam late!
Let it go…
Letters in the grave; need to be ‘brave.’
Stick a label on it; Depression
Change the address.
Oodles of mess; time eclipsed by so much ‘missed.’
Misrepresented, mistimed, misdiagnosis, misunderstood, missed.
Return to sender 30 years later…
Wrong label, here’s a new one; ASD
New order from the so-called Disorder.
(C) Natasha Sinclair, all rights reserved.
