Standing among the multitude passing by, that blank stair on your face,
their indifference passing in hast. This shroud of darkness the mind fails
to comprehend, the state of the depression,
your currently in.
You past through the mood swings between light and shadow you hear the whispers,
words unspoken, wondering in the wilderness believing your broken.
Failing to make eye contact with the figures that stagger by, descending, not a self
inflicted wound, still a tomb in the minds cocoon.
Your ragged condition feeling the burning sting of indignation, you’ve concealed
the situation, mentally ill revelations. Living in the spot light of shame, cold ire nights
when the voices call your name, the figures not there dart between the shadows,
When your not listening to the squeaks and the rattles. How far! who knows down
the rabbit hole you’ll go, stranded in time, still hearing your mother sing those old