Sometimes you lose all sense of what
is real and what has been imagined.
Sometimes you can’t take care of
yourself, no matter whether or not
people wish you well. Sometimes you
can’t stop crying for no reason and
that is when all happiness seems to
come from rose coloured glasses
and you feel that you’ve lost yours
for good. The world is moving with
energy and purpose but you have
none, staring off into space, feelings
of inadequacy come, even if you
could succeed, negative feelings
grow like weeds, choking out the
brighter emotions searching for
space. You take a drink but it just
brings you down, you struggle to
function but only sadness and
failure seem profound. Beautiful
moments are like delicate flowers,
destined to wilt and die, sometimes
within hours. It’s hard to know when
it began but it seems nothing can
negate this downward spiral, you’ve
given the inch, it’s running the mile.
Hope is a thin shaft of light
through an attic window, pale
and striving to help you heal.
Dust mites dance in it and draw
your eye, although it is faint,
hope won’t die.
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