Blue, the hue, each shade In, many a way, excites Me. Or, if deeply true, Calmness, like that of known Intimate floating, along Below, light dancing Cast rays to fight, shadows But not as deeply, As I am, down I go.
These dreams attached to that which cannot be feel so real in settings that are surreal. Confusion sets the theme an unending quest to obtain The precious state of being of a need to close that chapter which I have been unable to read for loss of a last page. I always see the face that only looks away. I weakly plead to be regarded, lowering my guard to demonstrate my need, my willingness to feel. Scenes like these change and the choices hold one consistent course. In these dreams I can barely speak above a whisper. I become enraged, and try to scream, so impotent to feel so inconsequential. I often wake and lay still. Struggling to recall details just to be once more unable to do anything more than wonder. Will I ever change. When will my obsession finally evaporate. How can I still cling so desperate an unobtainable thing a heart that does not care. To loathe my mind and despise my heart for the foolish act of loving someone more than could ever be real. To sleep and never dream. If only, no more.
As the dark of shadow surrounds Drops fall upon A page of recollection
Bleeding ink that spreads Makes blurry Why it is I feel this way
Lowest moment Freely self inflicted for no reason Why am I like this?
A need in me that I alone Embrace to the end this way
Alone. Wrapped safely in a dark room Drops on the page.
Depression even when in treatment can hit like waves to the cliffs face. Almost self inflicted. Almost in some sick habit, I force myself to the place inside, below to the embrace. I hate feeling this way. I wish I could banish the path that leads me down to the misery I never earned and the torment undeserved. Why can't I be normal and prefer the light and love and warmth. Melancholy for too long. Something is wrong in my head.