And so, I return to the weakest point below,
Back to the depths of a depression I thought had let go.
Not easy for me to comprehend,
The turmoil within that seems to have no end.
Difficult to explain, hard to articulate,
Surrounded by weariness, it's a heavy weight.
Releasing may be the option I need,
When I become a burden, a complex deed.
In this state where confusion reigns,
Minds poisoned, thoughts in chains.
If I, myself, cannot understand,
How can I expect them to lend a helping hand?
Wrapped in darkness, growing more alone,
As rain falls, the earth it does condone.
Still, I stand alone this time,
Reaching out, trying to save what's mine.
Thus, I conclude this pain in my heart,
For I know I'm not worthy of love's sweet art.
YOU ARE READING
yet another story
Poetrymy last writing was on July 2020. here i am again. yet with another story and another phase of my life.
