What year is this?
Is it the year
Of my freedom, my triumph?
Or just another disaster
I must and will master.
Creeping, crawling through
The sadness, the madness
Striving for some gladness
To dwell here in my heart
When will it start?
When will all this muddy 
Turmoil leave, depart?
Nothing wrong
Just following along
With the throng.
Yes, nothings wrong
It’s just that
Nothings right
In this year
This year of sadness
I’m living tonight.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013