Long Past Imago , Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

This brain I am imprisoned in
is the most tortuous of beasts,
it leaves me with never a moment
of quiet or of peace
If I could extract from it
one worthwhile clue as to why I should exist
then perhaps I could rest for a while.

Sleep comes upon me as a superficial sheet
and I awake at dawn fatigued and still
without a smile.
New days are comparable to old days
so yesterdays strife is still with me
added to an occurring of todays life.
I am forever lost in fragments of black.


Sally Plumb