A.D.D.


Like a fragmented puzzle with a missing piece,

One little lost brain.

Hopeless shards of memories and plans.

Snatches of prayers and purpose,

Locked in a coifed box, then shaken and stirred.

No single thought carried to conclusion.

One little lost brain.

Creativity won’t fit with solemnity,

And tomorrow won’t agree with today.

Hours chased in a million directions.

An hourglass with no bottom.

Grains of potential spilling on the floor.

4 thoughts on “A.D.D.

  1. I really like this, Abby. Great message within it. I am confused by the line, “Creativity won’t it with solemnity,”. Am I missing something, or is there a mistake? (Sorry if it’s me! I wanted to point it out in case it wasn’t!)

  2. I like the poem but I think we haven’t taught people how to harness the potential of ADD. Because, that’s where my writing style comes from -I’ve tried to allow the racing thoughts to be what they will. In Arabic poetry, they often say one couplet does not necessarily lead to the next. If only those suffering from ADD would allow each spark to blaze or fizzle as it comes in poetry or art, we the audience could really enjoy some fantastic new and different stuff filled with unexpected splits and tangents.

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