At times, old insecurities come to the fore, hand in hand with wistful memories of past lovers, loss, death and grief. At other times, I have bitter quarrels with God late into the night about sin, redemption and child-death; and when solace will not come, in despair, I run for shelter to life's true confessional—poetry.
Sunday, 11 July 2021
Depression- a poem by Chris Zachariou
Sadness, photo by Maraikuk
I look for solace; I distort reality I wreck the world.
I'm a wordsmith;
I rebuild it word by word I rebuild it verse by verse
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