My song

Just a poem

My song.

When I was young,

And free, and strong

I made a song

With just one word

It was in June,

And had one tune

But found out soon

It was absurd.

July, I wrote

Another note

The best, I thought

Was ever heard

August, I knew

Two words were few,

And time was due

To write a third

September days

Were full of haze,

blurry displays

My brain was blurred

I was confined

Deep to my mind,

Trying to find

Word number three

Winter was bad,

Gloomy, and sad

All it could add

Was grief to me

But then again

I thought the rain

locked up my brain

Then lost the key

There was a hole

Down in my soul,

Deeper than all

Ditches of hell

Letters, were fine

Yet, were not mine

The bottom line

I was not well.

They disappear

Behind my fear

I look, I hear

But cannot tell

In endless space

I lost my face

And left no trace

Or crumbs of bread

Like anticipated,

After I waited,

Followed dictated

Orders, as said

What was the use

If that abuse

Was an excuse

For life instead?

During the quest

To find a rest

Inside my chest

And in my head

Forgot the note,

That I first wrote,

And always thought

Best, ever said

Softly a chime

Like babies' rhyme

Time after time,

Puts them to sleep

When I was young,

And free and strong

I made a song

But could not keep

Was it in June

And had one tune?

It's not too soon

Now to find out

What was that word

That was absurd,

And no one heard

Really about?