We live in a world where
Even kings get sick,
They lie, deceive, and trick,
But on a certain day, of a certain week,
They lie helpless, drawn, down and meek.
Their power to their side,
Their mantle weak,
What they see is their arms and skin and speak.
What they seek is a dream of the downward deep.
In the hallway,
She watches silent, weeps.
(inspired by this: The Anosognosic’s Dilemma: Something’s Wrong but You’ll Never Know What It Is (Part 3)
Posted 1 year ago
