Depression

Darkness like a shroud covers my soul, and oft times for no reason at all.

Silence like a plague enters my heart, as if it has stopped never to restart.

Clouded is my head, as thick as a fog; dismal are my thoughts, as bleak as a bog.

Emotions like knives opening every wound, but bleed they won't for death is not to come.

Dying is my wish to escape from all this pain; as if a loved one has passed and I am drowning in my shame.

Life is such for me, no hope or love or joy; only to remain tormented in my mind until kindness takes me home.