Page 1, it\'s not a bad as it seems. I an apt to bouts of depression. Not clincal, but due to real life events. I can not write when these moods come upon me. That I wrote this is a sign that I am coming out of that mood. A literary screaming at the wind. Dibs

Field of Thoughts

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My field of thoughts lay polluted

Barren of hopes shoots

Guilt and regret permeate its soil

Its ground parched, crying out

For tears that will not fall.

-

The hard pithy grains of reality

Stir amongst the desolation

Of deliberate self-assassination

Futility has its own fertility

Of downtrodden negativity

-

Despairs deep fissures

Confuse the caring

Their tools ineffective

In such a defensive ground

Unable to till, they gaze bemused

-

Only the wind of cruel intent

Can scrape at the surface

The astute and self-centred

Fire sharp twisted words

That falls like poisonous pollen

-

My thoughts eek existence

Within depressions desires

Like a Somme like disease

They cling remorsefully to me

Cloaked in aChernobylian winter.

-

I have not tears of my own

I am undeserving of them

Who will cry my tears for me?

Not of pity, but through knowing my soul

Who will release me and let me grow?

By Dibs

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