morose.

Sadness.
Deep, dark and frigid cold. Shriveled, wrinkled, deprived of life.
A mockery of self, a faded picture of health
and a wreck adrift on the infinite abyss.
To look yet not see, to eat yet not taste
To touch yet not feel, to breathe yet not smell
To hear yet not comprehend, to think yet not understand
Every word a hatchet wound, ripping flesh with its cruel curved blade
Every wound afestered anew, gangreneous filth pooling
Left alone as a hulking husk, an empty shell without life,
Like an arrow losing its fletches in mid-flight, knowingly flying to its destruction
Like wilted lilies rotting in humid air, former fragance turn to putrid stench
Like trampled roses ground to a pulp, fed upon by scavenging worm.
Gormless, worthless, wretched inside
Hapless, clueless, wishing for a place to hide.
Endless yearnings abruptly truncated, hopes and wishes boldly carved away
Slowly skinned in clinical cruelty, despair carved as words on bloody quivering flesh
A bloody mess, pained beyond pain,
Living yet rotting, sleepless and sightless
Wrighting in torment yet senseless from pain
Assaulted on all fronts, ever hurt engraved on the brain
Grief.

Frustration.
To have yet to lose, right beside, yet far away
Near enough to touch, yet as elusive as before
Empty promises resounding as gongs
Reverberating throughout, shaking all to the core
What could be relied on, all turned to ashes
Friends turned foes, comrades turn rivals
Fond memories fade as the flag of strife is raised
Seed of bitterness poisoning all sources,
Tainting and corrupting, destroying without remorse
BAH.