It’s rare that something makes me want to run screaming
Howling my rage and anger
Pain and misery
At the innocent moon
Its rare that I write and teardrops blur the ink in my parchment
often theres a hole in my heart
I’m empty half the time
But never this sour, never this sorrowfull
Now theres a hole, where I was never whole
A void stretching downwards to infinity
Into the bowels of lowness
Where my dimly beating heart resides
As I write this my hand wavers, my pen stutters
Too tired to record these depressing emotions
I try to see hope in the future but my vision is dim
I try to grasp the hand of faith, but my limbs are unresponsive
The body thats been to the bottom of the pool and rises up
baptised by the pain and the agony of drowning
Now adrift I float
An endless stretch before me
No longer questing, searching, hoping.
Darkness envelopes me
Claims me for its own.
I no longer fight
My tiny spark extinguished by the enveloping deluge of despair.
All is dark.