Things are changing

And the Chameleon blends in

Yet again

She is dull gray

With bland brown spots

Though she can be a rich azhure

And brilliant black,

It depends on what you want,

But her receptors are down

She can’t take the hints

And so remains what she last was

And blends in

Yet again

With what, I’m not sure

She does not what she was,

Who she was,

How she was

For her memory fails her

The Elixir of Life

Has run from her comprehension

She picks up bits and pieces,

Every now and again,

And responds to them,

Though wrongly.

The mind,

Her stronghold,

Is failing,



And the welcome door of Death,

A sweet blackness

That encompasses all,

Lies just ahead of her,

Within sight,

And touch,


But the road is that of Pain

Will she make it do Death’s Door?

Only he knows

And can help

And the Blessed, Beautiful Moon.


2 thoughts on “Chameleon

  1. haha! you have a chameleon poem too!

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