What’s my Mom so depressed about…
the fact that we all die?
We work hard, or dedicate much,
only to wind up motionless and still?
So life is worth living?
When all our labor
Is forgotten and taken for granted?
What’s my Mom depressed about?
We love, we laugh, we worry, we cry
Only to find it’s all mundane
Dull routine…stick a needle in our eye?
What was exciting is now yesterday’s news?
So that’s why we’re ‘singin’ the blues’?
What’s Mom depressed about?
As my lines become shorter
So does our purpose when we’re older
Limited motion, limited will, limited pill
Slowly deteriorating – withering
Barely breathing in the smoke
Of her last cigarette
Endings and stillness
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