Sometimes I sit eyes closed and breathe, while I feel my hands shaking,
Some mornings I wake from nightmares, tear-soaked and heartbroken.
Other times, my mind wanders so far, that I worry it can’t find its way home.
Sometimes there’s confusion, chaos, and an overwhelming sensation of sound,
Other times it is deathly quiet, and I trudge through a bog of numbness, am I even alive?
Like an autumnal tree branch I yield, everyday shedding things once held dear, leaf after leaf,
I feel it all, in the sunshine and the cold dark early hours, I can be overcome with grief.
Dan Verkys 