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Charles Serio ©2011 all rights reserved.
Poetry
My sorrow knows no bounds.
It is an emotion, sadness, truly felt,
A sorrow genuinely found.
Not an illness,
Nothing to be solved with pills,
Nor a preconditioned categorized ill;
As if we had no heart, no soul,
There is no non-physical role,
No self.
We are solely a matter of brain chemicals
Nothing else.



The death of loved ones doped in medication.
We must not grieve.
The loss of love channeled in consultation
And relieved.
Sadness and grief are now depression,
Something to be defeated.
Pining for what is lost is now obsession,
A sickness, a disease to be treated.



We are all now fixated.
Our joy is mania,
Our love, dependence related.
Our self belief takes a narcissistic hue.
There's something wrong with me and you.
We are no longer allowed to feel, to respond.
We are meant to chug along
At a constant rate,
Unruffled, coping, productive, straight
Until all life is drained away.

Machines take all in their stride too,
But they have no spirit, no inspiration, no mood.
They warm not to the setting sun.
Autumnal leaves do not stir them
Nor the face of a loved one.
They feel not and so live not.

My sorrow knows no bounds.
I will feel it anyway.


MY SORROW KNOWS NO BOUNDS