Wasteland

I phoned Grandad today.  The first thing he asked me was "Are you getting better?".
What am I supposed to say?  Lie and tell him yes, or be real and say "No Grandad, actually I feel like I'm worse if anything, I'm slowly but surely losing this battle in my head".  What would be the good in that?  So of course, I lie.
He tells me he's given up chocolate in addition to his regular prayers for me as an act of penance, until I get better.  This makes me feel even worse.

Wasteland

Dark and ominous

What used to be full of light

Vibrant and bursting with colour

Is now sombre shades

Of grey and black.

Cold and bitter

The warmth and glow

Is gone

Like the soft flames

That used to dance and flicker

Ignited into an angry furnace

Raging with scorching intensity

Ravaging all in it’s path.

Now

All that remains

Is a sparse and barren

Wasteland.