Friday, September 14, 2018

Ode to Seasonal affective disorder

One would think

that as tattered and ripped as

my soul is,

the stress would just drip from me and be gone.

One would think that

as broken and damaged as I am

this vessel would hold nothing.

One would think

the icy wind of depression would

just blow through me with an eerie howl.

What part of me is sound enough to hold


and why, oh why does it cling to me with such tenacity

while the light bounces off of me and warms

everyone around me.

There isn't enough of me to cast a shadow

how is it the darkness can always find a place to hide in me?

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