Can it be explained? Or must it be felt?

In simple words, polluted by frequent emptiness,

Can the darkness be described? Should it?

 

The longer it stays caged within the walls of my mind, 

The more the disease spreads

It cannot be seen or captured with film,

No, it's nature is to lie just beyond the visivle layer

 

A curse both supernatural yet completely physical

Burning as an ember beneath the coals,

Waiting to be fanned into a wildfire

 

It plauged the soul, once strong and capable,

Into something delicate and breakable

Innocence forgotten, youthful features turn cold and worn

As eyes fog and perception alters

 

Doubts flood the consciousness

Is anything right? Has it ever been?

What is the meaning, the purpose, to these air filled lungs?

 

Why does the sun hide from the darkness, or is it the moon

That fears the light?

Is it happiness we truly seek, or just the absence of pain?

Can you have both?

 

An endless spiral of existential crises,

Racing around in a brain tired 

Of asking questions

 

This, the lifelessness, the pain of apathy

And the power of a broken spirit, is the darkness

It is what I call the fog that clouds my mind tonight - 

The heaviness in this air

 

Shrouding my body like a gown

Of poisonous black silk

Beckoning me to let go