Winter Depression - Stream Of Thought

A sky of steely grey, edged with black,

The scattering of diamond stars don't shine through it's curtain,

As it closes in around me.

I sit silent, hiding in some forgotten corner,

Notebook in hand, blank pages staring at me in quiet accusation.

I am so very quiet, though I want to suddenly throw a fit.

To tear down the walls,

To scream and cry,

To rip at my own wrists with a sharp-edged-something.

But instead I remain locked inside my own mind,

No noise, just listless boredom.

No riot, just silent protest.

A stand against my own emotions.

The End

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