I am

An attempt to my struggle with depression in to words.

Falling through the dark reserves of my mind,
I am trapped. Stuck in a spiral, heading towards
nothingness. I watch the days go by encased in
the fleshy membrane of sycophancy and rot.
The walls of this tower mean nothing to me.
They fall and reassemble with the fluid ticking
of a clock. Like a wolf tearing its way out of
hell only to find purgatory to be abominable.
The stench of the population here clouds every
other sense. Putrefying remains. Insects crawl
across the surface of an open wound. Their
dagger pincers rupturing the healing vessels.
I am nothing. I am the empty space that
conquers the corner of your eye. Perplexing.
A mist blurring the edges of a perfect memory.
A stain on the soft, rich fabric you lay upon
a corpse. Nothing more than pestilence.
I have found the ragged remains of a
wise woman and forced them around my
misshapen bones. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I have twisted the contented smiles of children
and mimicked them on my own forsaken lips.
A moth that has stolen the wings of a butterfly.
Standing far from the circle I observe. Yearning
to belong; like a demon gazing venomously at
the games of angels. Reclusive and vicous.

Reviews

[Ashley Armstrong]

This forms an interesting image in my mind. And, your vocabulary is amazing. I can't write like this. You did a very good job. Keep writing like this. You're good at it.