The Museum of Depression
In those dark, dark corners of a mindful mindare entities ready to rule, to dominate,
to control the hallmarks of sanity.
They linger there sheltered by terror,
encased in hopeless abandonment,
thriving on sorrow and apathy,
expanding into the universe
of all thought, capturing with cancerous
tentacles the last vestige of life.
Ever growing into a tempestuous tumor,
sucking the life as a parasite from
a soul lost in the abyss of depression,
They consume.
The eyes, now blank, stare, releasing
polluted rivers of tears covering the
heart with painful poisons of rejection,
dejection, and plight. No light shines.
The once beautiful sound of peace
is muted, dead as the spirit it once thrived
in. Emptiness fills the void. Alone,
completely alone,
in a world of torment--except
for the voices.
kathy lockhart
11/08/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 2342 times
Written on 2006-11-08 at 21:41
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