perhaps it is the weather
a prolonged absence of the sun
or presence of the winter cold
or just a temporary fashion

the media as well as many webbéd sites
simply abound with dreary blather
     of lovers lost and death so cold
     the lonesomeness of every single soul
     and how s/he suffers when s/he writes
spelled out at length with no discretion

we know that people suffer from depression
or unquenchable anger at the world
and how through proper treatments
you can considerably relieve the pain

fix them in words is one of them
    but may not be enough
sometimes a mix of pills and pen
may do the trick and help you
    write yourself through your misty prison walls
    discover unlocked doors hidden in plain sight
    step out into the sunshine
        from the darkest night

you are the sun
    whose radiance illuminates the world
    lends brilliance to your life
    sheds light on everything you’ve done

and soon you’ll notice
even the weather is getting bether …

I just wanted to wright a letter to you. I am doing this because I want to let you know that you loners, hurt ones, strangers and lost ones. You are beautiful. You are strong. You can do it. I believe in you. And I am here for you, I want to help in anyway I can so please if you need somebody to talk to, someone to listen to you, I'm here. I may not be much help but I will try my hardest. I am in a stable place and want to pull you up. To be a rope holding you up. To be one of the many stars in the dark night. I got better and so can you. So if you self harm, cut, are depressed or just need someone to rant to I'm here. Come talk to me.
              
             Love Shadow

I sit by the lake,
                                 on the lush green grass,
gently try to break
                                  my inner thoughts,
and silently assimilate
                                 chirping of birds,
rhythmic swaying of trees
                                 by the sweet breeze,
stare at the white cotton clouds
                                 spread on the chimerical blue
and try to soak the pure dew
                    till the morning remains new.

There's beauty in the night time

That no one else see's

There's an orchard in the forest

That whispers in the breeze.

There's a place I often go to

Known only by me

If I get to know you better

I might just let you see.

My past lies
  like a deep
    still lake,
a record of
all my mistakes
swimming
  within its soul
& I want to burn
them all, but
   how do you
take a flame to
water?
it just stays,
    forms ripples,
sometimes small,
    sometimes
biblical, all I can
   do is wait for
drought, for
  clouds to move
& sun to come
    out; the day
I will wake
   & not see a lake
but a clean slate