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