Sorrow like a mollycoddled child

Sorrow like a mollycoddled child
Knocks down all my cautions.
It twists and pains me to scream
Until Dawn and finds me still in dream;
It cuts and soaks my eloquence
Neither stop nor start.
People write enormeously and put it on town;
I roam under Himalayan shade to realise my thoughts are slow and brown:
Sometimes stranded up and sometimes stranded down
Little matters, or what gown
Or what still I don’t have words to this poem.