Sadness is out to get me

a century in the making

earth tides on a midnight ride

eating me up from the inside

How do you act

When you're flat against your back

upon a desolate wall

and silent, you fall

oh where in the world

Do the seasons go

Where in the world

is it safe to see the story unfurl

A tirade against the skies

Leaves me feeling just a bit behind

everyone else, and so my self's denied

Anger and fear congregate

beneath the dark-lit sky's pomegranate

Background of exploding light

a backdrop for the world's suicide

and I cry

alone in a crowded room, I die

and stress is the only thing that lingers by my side

Autumn leaves upon winter storms

The dying upon the dead chill

of forgotten ages, bleak landscape changes

And there is no warmth, no thrill

a feeling inside, so unstable

as to uproot the very tendrils

of growing changes, of correct adaptations

leading the way back down to darkened imaginations

a place I never thought I'd be again

irreversible; inimical; self-condemnation

The plight of my soul; my stigma; depression