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Twenty-One Lines on Despair

These days, every song that plays
has me collapsing into tears.
Music was once that unfailing comfort,
that safe haven I hid behind
when life got too rough and raw for my ragged soul.
Now that soft blanket,
meant to soothe and settle the unquiet monsters
lurking just beyond view,
has shrunken to a scrap not of solace but of sorrow.
Music is no longer a refuge
but a reminder of everything I’m losing and have lost.
Where, I wonder, can I bury myself
when I need to escape from me?
There is no love, no touch, no affirmation
that my very existence, let alone what I do,
matters whatsoever.
My voice is stilled; my words are strangled at birth.
My eyes are blind; I see nothing in front of me.
My hand is numb; I cannot even feel my way in this world.
And my work – the offspring of my supposedly great gifts –
is nothing but a mocking echo of my own grand delusion.

© 2012 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved

Twenty-One Lines on Despair

RC deWinter

Fairfield, United States

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Artist's Description

That long fall into the void.

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