When the heart has picked its mate
And then in turn is denied its right,
Bottomless oceans do not nearly sink low enough
To equal these sagging emotions.

A downward spiral is too easy a *****.
A drop off a cliff,
A downward journey not for you to decide when it will end,
Where even rock bottom might slip out sending you falling again.

You get used to the oppressive darkness, after a while at least.
And if - by some cruel hand of Fate - you are down here long enough,
This darkness becomes enlightening.
A safe and steady home.

Happiness turns to your mortal enemy.
All things associated to it are banished from your being.
You wrap your death cloak tighter around, sinking lower.
Ironically, all told, this might be construed as making you happy.

Funny how even the best laid plans can backfire so quickly.
As you watch the bottom disappear from beneath,
Thoughts of death and worse creep to mind.
Memory of you slowly fades in time.