Sometimes the gray can suffocate
from out of nowhere comes again…
A gnawing irritating fog
that saturates beneath the skin.

Where smiles are tired behind the eyes
with withered dreams a jaded mess…
A taste of sorrow and defeat
can form a mountain more or less.

When just too weary to conceive
how shadows rob the light away…
To trample flowers, hide the sun,
beneath these clouds that come to stay.

An ill wind blowing through the mind
recalling secrets of the damned…
Reiterating ruthless words into the heart
where fist is jammed.

Sometimes depression is disease
that rages in a storm its own…
Inflicting wounds that bleed in anger
from the curse of the unknown.

Yet sometimes days just seem to offer
nothing good, like winter wind…
A cold and empty invitation
from a cruel and haunting friend.

While holding breath until it passes
hoping for a slight reprieve…
For sometimes all it takes to mend
is inside self to yet believe.