Falling more and more Into the depths Of my inner-world Where depression reigns, Where there is no relief, Where the darkness Is all consuming, Where my heart turns to stone, Where it aches and bleeds, Where l am a prisoner, Where I am nothing. Any substance, only faked Intuituve intelligence Ha! Whoever heard of such a thing? I must have made that up To cover for my glaring inadequacies. I fooled them though... Even had a Geophysics professor Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana Talking to me. He thought I was refreshing. Wow, what a treat. Wow, me refreshing? What a joke. I am anything but resfreshing... I am a joke...
I am a fairly well accomplished woman with major insecurities. I felt I had an intuitive sense about me and later it became intuitive intelligence. At the ripe old age of 76, my intelligence is in major remission it seems. Thus the poem.