"Depressive Haze"

I learn not to mention them

too often:

my greyscale days -

this, too familiar, depressive haze.


I can view

your vibrant summer,

from afar.

To me it is simply

an unreachable star.


Is the physical illness

worse,

or the curse

of feeling constantly empty inside?

I don't know, or even care, any more.

I mainly exist

behind my cell door.

What is my life for?


And then it returns:

the darkness. Pure darkness.

Almost enticing - almost inviting.

The moment

when grey

becomes black

once again.

I can never explain


why I am

immersed

in emotional pain -

why sometimes

I can barely

function

at all.


Yet, still I am trying to smile,

and sometimes I do.