The days are upside down

A whirlwind of unknowns

Each morning, I face them

A mirror image of who I am

But where do I need to be?

I overlook the important

To dwell in the mundane

Endlessly searching for me

Wondering where I went

Yet, never finding myself

It’s a brutal pattern

A continuous thread

Unraveling, dangling

With no scissors in sight

To cut away the fray

Until it is too late

Everything I have done

Denigrated, criticized

Until the attacks cease

Forever brought to an end

Authors Note:  Just letting you know I am fine.  My poetry, lately, has been reflective of those who are not fine.  I am merely a voice for those who cannot speak…

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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