I think I’m losing my mind.
Rain falls on my parade,
Every day.
Syrup only reminds me of antifreeze.
Give me lobotomy
Give me death
Give me Peace
from the gravel that
Rattles in my head.
But maybe the cure is in the sweetness?
Not the antifreeze.
Not the bitter taste
of disappointment
When the syrup
turns out poisoned.
It is in searching for that sweetness
despite the fear
of poison.
It is smelling the syrup,
thinking it maple.
I think I’m losing my mind.
I think I will find it again,
tomorrow.
About the Creator
Eric B. Hunter
E.B. spends his nights crafting stories. He hopes to portray people as they are, flawed humans capable of great and terrible things.
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https://ebhunterauthor.wordpress.com/link-in-bio/
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Comments (1)
Had a coolant leak once…car eternally smelled like maple syrup with a touch of chemical…I’ve been looking for my mind as well. So far no progress. When(if) I find it it’s definitely getting a lobotomy.