Depressive Mourner

Endless beyond comprehension. A penny for your thoughts, no question, nothing bought.

Giver, ultimate destroyer.

A parade. Make-up, muscles, social media. A padlock on my soul, this will consume me and carve out its hole.

Our mundane linear trajectory ending in death. Waiting for no one… soon, it won’t be long.

Power our dream. The lion among cats, we drive on with greed.

It is all we have, when will mine begin? Am I the forgotten one drenched in sin.

So beautiful, so cruel. My glass half empty. I have nothing to lose.

One chance to write a story, one chance to breathe and accept its glory.

No time to sit and think, there are battles to be won, enemies to sink.

But think is all I do, time escapes my clutch as I yearn for that breakthrough.

Seconds slowly turn and turn, life passing away, slipping by… no desire for concern.

A life of thought a life of torture, never present, the inconsolable drepressive mourner.


Twitter @jackshuttlewood


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