And there are still these days
where every joyful thought
is snuffed out.
Where every attempt at happiness
is beaten back
diminishing to a small child
in the corner
of my mind.
Days where there is no light
and obsidian skies prevail,
I'll never break through.
My feeble hopes,
asphyxiated.
Where I let the abyss swallow me,
turning to drink,
craving the blade,
the needle and ink,
the breaking down
of this vessel
as I desperately grasp at feeling,
and im silently screaming.