Off The Shelf

I often want to run away but there's nowhere to run
In my darkest of hours, I considered the gun
I just want for the Sun to shine its light on me
More cloudy days than not is what life seems to be    
   
Is it me, my destiny or am I just acting weak?    
I'm striving on a daily to reach my mountain's peak  
As I peek over the horizon, I can barely see the light
I'm tired of all the turmoil but yet I stay in this fight    
   
Is my sight distorted? Am I just being pessimistic?
I'm looking for the answers but they're all cryptic
Mystic; Or did I miss it being revealed to me?
Writings on walls appear hieroglyphic as I see   
   
I'm not seeking sympathy; just clearing my mind
Scribing in a rhyme what I'm feeling inside
In due time, I'll bounce back to my normal self
In the meantime, depression's off its shelf