The one I met before

We sit here on the narrow path

Staring face to face

The darkness waves his staff of death

Moving without a trace


His breath is cold

His movement numb

Lacking in any joy

If this were any other man

They'd want not to say goodbye


But me? I’m different

I welcome him

He glides away with ease

I miss his presence

The simple path

That is mental disease


The illness creeps all through my brain

Effecting those around

It gets so bad that I hear them

Why are they damn so loud??


I want him back,

I miss his ghost,

I crave him more and more.


But I can't have him

You won’t let me,

The one I met before.



    Thanks "V" for an elegant poem but with a painful message. I know several People wit varying degrees of Alzheimer's and other mental impairment. The ones I feel most for are those who know they are locked in mental illness but also know there is no escape. Just a slow frustrated DEATH. Thanks for caring ~ Yours BRIAN & ANGELA Thanks for being our FRIEND ~ B & A !

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