This is written in sympathy for a lovely lady who suffers and for those who suffer with her.
Broken Doll
The broken doll
Upon on her shelf
There’s no one near
Can fix her
Alone in crowds
Or by herself
There is no swift elixir
No magic medicine to cure
The anguish of her spirit
Her gloom
Like fog
Is thick and pure
No breeze nor wind will clear it
They analyze
They theorize
They try to diagnose
Prescribing pills
To quell her ills
There’s no effective dose
They love her
And they hover
In their zeal to make repair
Seeking answers from their books
The answer isn’t there
Helpless on a lake of grey
She tries to stay afloat
They pry to peel her fog away
As if it were
A coat
But dolly’s fog
Is part of her
It makes her breathe
And think
And it will never
Go away
Until one day
She sinks