Her retrogression.

Her retrogression:

Sullen words,
so glum and moody.
Sadness brooding like no tomorrow,
as she sits in her chair dourly.

Thoughts stewing in monotony.
Wearing a wearisome tiresome face,
uncomfortable except in her own silence.
Frail and feeble toward any conversation.

Twisted and distorted to any reasoning.
Weak and closed to ideas around,
now evil and hatred dwell inside her heart.
Sapped of all last remaining compassion.

Degenerating into an entity without feelings.
Knows not right from wrong,
sinking into a mindless reality.
Actions filled with hostility and loathing.

Steven Beesley (c)