The flowers of Anhedonia grows upon me, Its roots engulf my whole being. Serendipity long lost, Only the remains of this wintercearig feeling inside this small yet feeble vessel. I don't know what to do or what to say; maybe to fill up that satisfaction I crave. Mind slowly turning insane, I keep things to myself, and that's all that I can say. All the florets blossom in the longing shade; of darkness that might never fade,