Pram (boat) at Hasslö, Sweden
Image via Wikipedia



Oft times I delve

Into the deep of my mind,

In search of some sort

Of answers to the

questions  I seek.


Swirling around in there

Is a mass of confused chaos–

A redundant oxymoron of

Self as self of me as self.

Is there a self in there?


Or am I lost, adrift in

Any which direction the

Currents take me?


A dinghy in the middle of

A hurricane–one life–

One insignificant life–lost.

A dinghy in the middle of a

Hurricane is one life lost.

A dinghy lost is a dinghy lost.


A dinghy is my self adrift

On the chaos of my mind.


~Keep Walking


About ~Drew

I am a survivor of childhood torture. Each day, I put one foot in front of the other, moving forward. To do any less would spell my own destruction. My music/poetry/prose deal with the devastating effect of this kind of abuse on a human being: me. My experiences/thoughts/ideas/misconceptions are exposed here for all to see. Here. I am lain bare, naked, hidden only be the cloak of anonymity.
This entry was posted in depression, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Lost

  1. Drew says:

    How cool… an hour ago, this poem did not exist in the world… now it is published for the world to read. Blogging is amazing.

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