the heaviness of being

 
my sadness spoke...
of grey days without end
of fog that would not lift

it was grieved inside me
sadder than sad it wept
it cried tears of true sorrow

bleak was its outlook
its little frame was racked with sobs
I tried to no avail to soothe it
my sadness would not be comforted

I could not ease its pain
depression was its creator...
deep inside my ego

it was the broken parts of me
inside my soul the shadowy dark spots;
it was grey that could not be contained
infecting my spirit with its frailty

it is the heaviness of being that affects us all
some more deeply than others
we carry it solemnly, stoically

until the colors of the soul bleed with it
until nothing else is left