Broken Man

Purple shadows beneath his eyes
Cast by his nighttime fears.
Raw and red and swollen cheeks,
Ravaged by his tears.

A throat that’s raw
And hands that shake
A mouth that cannot talk,
Hair falling out,
A heart that doubts
And feet that cannot walk.

He found himself a broken man,
But why, he couldn’t say.
What had he done,
He asked himself,
To make things end this way?

Did he deserve,
This life he lived;
And would he ever earn,
The right to sleep through
And never toss or turn?

daily poem #842

This entry was posted in Anxiety, Mental Health, Relationships, Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Broken Man

  1. jfb57 says:

    Another powerful piece Pooks. That gold nugget of a peaceful night’s sleep.


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