Dredging Through The Sludge

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 21, 2017

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Submitted: November 21, 2017

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Dredging Through The Sludge

 

Dredging through the sludge that occupies my head,

trying to make heads or tails of a certain kind of dread,

for when it comes to memory, mine’s going on the blink

and into deep depression it brings me now to sink.

My head is full of treacle, facts are getting stuck,

it’s hard to pick the right ones when they’re buried in the muck.

My thoughts are getting mangled and my words just can’t be found;

I’m finding myself just dreading it, the place that I am bound.

It’s stress they say, it’s nothing more,

relax and then you’ll be more sure;

perhaps that’s true, I’ll soon find out;

a few more years will prove, no doubt.

You’re young, they say, forget it, push it from your mind

but it's the one thought that just seems to cling, the one that I can find.

I’ve seen so many people, to dementia succumb;

I’ll make damn sure that I myself, will not one of them become.


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