Dysphoria Poem by Hannington Mumo

Kept in the tense suspense of things,
He thought of other confused beings;
Like the sad butterfly whose cute wings
Fail mid-air in her sweet circling swings.

Cast away by his valued kith and kin,
He learned the ill fate of lone urchins
Who grop through heaps of rot and tin
Desperate for mots of decaying chow.

Spurned by the ones he cherished most,
He at last got to know the painful ghost
That haunts without end the widowed soul,
Why widowered folks dart from pole to pole.

Nursing many a broken dream,
He truly felt for the broken egg;
Whose fate indeed resembled his;
That early shot in his fledgling leg.

After a hellish ride through unforgiving rocks,
He came to understand life's cruellest knocks.