Oh, days of being toney about the town,
how I miss you.
My pinkish hue has turned to punk.
My finest food has been made funk.
My smile’s been padlocked in a trunk.
I sloop down farther in my bunk.
I wish that I was more than drunk.
When depression calls on me.
Where did you come from ravenous brute?
You bully in a zoot suit,
I thought that I had given you the boot.
I figured I had killed you at the root.
I can’t even go on a two day toot*
When depression calls on me.
Then, if by miracle, a new wind blows in
giving back my zeal, vigor, zen.
Depression calls, but my number has changed.
Do do do…the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please, check your number and try your call again.
*Going on a toot is sneaking off to get drunk for a few days. During that time, a drunken person may attempt wild and dangerous feats.
So rad. You need to be in a poetry slam
Sent from my iPad
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Excellent write! 🌟
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Your writing is just awesome!
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Thank you so much, KK! I am very pleased that you like it.
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Thank you, Nancy! I appreciate your kindness. I appreciate your reading it.
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Thanks, B.
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