The abandoned cure

We ail all while in spite of knowing the cure.

Million thoughts of you

Race against each other

Only to be returned to the

Quiver.

Thoughts caught in a maze

Spiraling and whirling

At the speed of light

Contained so tight.

An excruciating struggle it is

One of a kind disease.

You were just a trigger.

Neither the pain nor the panacea.

The mind became the master

conjuring up the disaster.

I struggle with myself

With so much sheer

Unwilling to get cured.

Where is the elixir?

The potion remains still

In my trembling hands

Unconsumed.

For acceptance is always the hardest.

Reviews

[Vennz]

Nice poem and good feel from the writer after long gap