The clouds rolled in sometime in March
Thick shadows of grey and black
My internal weatherman predicted storms
God knows I’m prone to highs and lows
but God doesn’t even exist.
I know, I’m prone to highs and lows.
Usually I wouldn’t have it any other way
I like to, feel, everything…
But this time I got stuck , down deep, in a rut
Discouraged from the bottom of the canyon
Not even bothering to look up
to touch the rock or clay
I curled in the fetal position
And pitied myself
Hoping if I just lay there very still
Something would happen
The earth would start to shake
Someone would find me and pull me out
But how could that even happen, when I had no light to shine
No voice to call for help
“I can’t connect with anyone.”
I just kept saying over and over again
Shutting my doors. Pulling the blankets over my head.
Letting sleep take me away.
“That’s how everyone feels, sometimes” my mother would say.
Just go on Anti-depressents already,
that’s what the others would say.
I don’t know why.
I locked my ambition in a box
and lost the key
My passion drowned in the sewer pipes down the street
I stayed in a box
Walls on each side, protecting me from anymore harm
not even the sunshine could bring me back to life
May, June, July,
August: my favourite month
Still the world was grey
and I did my best to escape
eat more, drink more, sleep more,
I am forever tired
forever trying to escape,
but today I finally feel different,
if only just a little.
A tiny spark-
Words on the tip of my tongue…