by Richard Vince

Something happened while I wasn't looking...
I just sat here, feeling small,
As the rush hour traffic crept past
And I hid from the world
Behind transparent glass as I
Swept up the shards of one more
Shattered, hopeless dream.

Everything I follow becomes smaller
And more distant, making me
Wonder if I'm actually running away.
Maybe everything else is so much
Faster than me that I need not.
I feel as slow as the cars
Not quite passing; people struggling
To get home alone.

Shaking off this sickness is
Harder than I thought it would be...
It seems that it has finally
Found somewhere to grip from which
I cannot remove it.

I saw the symptoms early on,
But if there is a cure I never had
Enough desire to find it.
Maybe one will find me before
I fight it off myself, if that is
Something I ever really manage to do.
I never know whether this is
A new infection, or merely
A relapse into an
Incurable condition.


Posted on 01/23/2004
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Amy Niggel on 01/26/04 at 09:36 PM

Life is a terminal condition. Great poem, good emotions coming out of it. Liked it a lot.

Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 01/27/04 at 08:33 PM

These lines really stand out to me "I saw the symptoms early on, But if there is a cure I never had Enough desire to find it." I like how instead of saying "there is no cure", it states it doesnt know if there is a cure or not, and there is no desire to find it. Avoids the sort of hopeless cliche. I like it

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