Mental Cog

Mental Cog

He is an old soul
With bones in his closet
His mind never dull
With his words, he cleverly deposits
Line by line, he exposes
Everything is not wine and roses
Collage of thoughts, in his mind
Through his sadness, he does bind
Popping pills, left and right
Still, he does not see the light
Broken spirit, death within
Mental illness, he cannot win
With him always, his disease
Will the demons, ever release
Shadows fall like a fog
He is the wheel, in this mental cog
Death would be a welcoming thought
I hope this feeling will begin to rot

Chelley Bean Poetess