The grooves are deep,
the paths long and straight,
and each time that echo reverberates,
sitting in that groove am I,
returning to the past,
reliving every nuance of pain,
and so quickly I cannot abstain.
I see a network of paths,
grooved directions like tree roots,
all ending in the same place,
each one a trace of past pain
and emotions unclaimed,
deep within this brain,
and so steep the slide.
Mood swings like a pendulum,
one moment fine,
the next a slide into pain,
a refrain I cannot abide to survive,
so I now recognize those triggers,
the grooves not a step I approve,
and quickly remove the thought.
Sounds, sights and feelings right now,
rescue me from myself,
off the grooves and in the moment,
keeps those triggers our of view,
and stay I do in the present,
avoiding those slides into despair,
and happiness mine to keep aware.
The black dog just ceases to control,
when my mind is consoled by awareness,
and I acknowledge existence,
but not yield to submission,
rather avoid the suffering
and pain of emotions
that used to disarm me.
Despair is not definitive,
now diminutive as life ensues,
and I pursue my goals,
not bound by blackness but uplifted by access
to more profitable roles,
that keep my mind in tune
and my soul nurtured.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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