Depression

Published September 7, 2015 by Wookie Rider

The sun hovers like a tree over a shadow
It plots, plans, polices
lingering and leering behind me
to irritate the vacant depths of solitude
Wielding its rays to prod at numbing lethargy
hindering productivity and any activity
of an entrapped entity, gilded apathy
Feelings shine through a transparent tombstone
eulogizing faith

eyes stare cloaked behind the melanin hoods
of a vessel separated from her soul
limbs hanging off the bed and palms facing the sky
meaning fades toward the illusion of the Rock above
It hurts, but
to free her is to let me go

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