Down
I feel down,
Picked at.
I feel blown,
Like a gust of wind has passed me.
I feel out of town,
Foreign every each way.
Nothing could make me sadder,
Than sadness itself.
Everything
It’s packing down,
I’m at the bottom.
Though it so overfilled it’s spilling,
I still manage to have all of it.
Nights and days are packed,
As well as mornings, noons and evenings.
It’s all coming down,
And there is no stopping it.
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