The River of stone

 I’m walking through a slimy foggy world and I can’t find any way out. That simple light of my world has flashed off and away. Little interest, slimy sorrow, all the things that were once fun they are long over and done. No ease to the brain and sorrow it pours over us dragging us down, down, down into a slimy cold graying river of sorrow suppose we are built with stone our minds tortured and grim, hauntings of past or future drag us down to ways of little or no return things feel wrong to feel Ahh judgments are in the air but we still get pulled and dragged way, way down a slimy cold river of sorrow turning us to stone never fear the end isn’t near we may be tortured but there’s a desire to live and breathe Ahh yes we are the broken never a dull moment I suppose to the other eye they see fine perhaps even pretty? But they see no further than to skin while deep down in our bones and our detached souls we are the broken our commands of light never answer the broken shadow of us we may haunt others the strong the ones that have broken us and torn us from good screams of our voices broken by dawn the slime of our sorrow moved to yours sure we have differences but our shared river of loneliness, sorrow, destroyed love, our world is different why can’t you see? Perhaps you pretend to seam the hurt the pain but you really can’t wrap it around your brain perhaps the untouched wonder or ask how can one be like that? It must be a tale A faking of such! But truly we walk around in haze these days only lighted by friends but guarded with stone and perhaps sorrow Indeed you may ask but truly our days of our heads held proud It's no longer around we hang our head in defeat showing that truly as we walk perhaps drown in the slimy river that we know as sorrow we must be built of stone the river of sorrow it clearly seems our feet are sinking perhaps there’s a door somewhere upon this foggy mist perhaps we’ll escape someday...

Author's Note

I wrote this awhile ago when i was going through depression.