Never Been Heard

(formerly The Musings and Learnings of a Widowed Bipolar Mum)

Untitled Part One

The boulder is dense

As I impel it up the hill.

My appearance is tense

As I endure this hefty bill.

I’m paying to live.

Recompense for the good times.

Or is it my Karma?

For disharmony, belligerence, negativity.

The weight is so much,

My hands warm and sweaty.

A touch is what I need.

Hold me tight til I succeed.

I’m succeeding at my own pace,

It’s slow, ugly and cold.

Summonsed in my teens,

Face grey, dirty, rarely serene.

At 46 today I wonder,

How long I’ll be pushing up this hill.

But I know it’ll be forever,

Even if I take the pills.

My knees are grazed

By the rough, cold ground.

Driven by a mouse leaking tears.

Powered by a Lioness who’s witnessed these fears.

At the top I’ll think I’ve made it,

Jump up in my stripey socks.

But there’s no straight plain on a mountain.

Too soon my serenity will be lost.

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