Sadness, My Closest Friend
by Dorothy Moser
Is it the weak mind that knows it's own soul?
or is it the one acutely in tune?
Do we see our sadness because it's our closest friend,
or is it our most vile enemy?
We are repulsed yet so intimately connected...
how does one turn left, right, inside or out?
Out hurts the least yet resolves nothing.
In hurts too much to pitch a tent and camp.
Left and right are of no value but distraction
by D. Moser