Oh deep, dark depression,

my uninvited guest,

the persistence of oppression

is precluding my life’s zest.

The dark before sunrise

of a dawn that just won't break,

suppressed by a thirst for my soul

that only sorrow can now slake.

The wisps that you are weaving

are clouding my damp eyes,

a cold and cloying shroud

that’s covering all that I desire.

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Drifting high on a gentle breeze

and grazing the tops of lofty trees,

watching below, all the people move

but there’s nothing left, up here, to prove.

Floating higher and into the clouds,

the sultry silence so deafeningly loud.

Throbbing pulse of a beating heart

as atoms pull; trying to drift apart.

Looking down upon an ailing world

with colourful rags held hig...

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