It's the deforestation of my mind;
cutting off the branches of positivity.
The leaves of memories turning brown,
falling down slow and painfully.
The twigs of emotion so fragile and thin,
snapping and breaking too easily.
It's a brick weighing me down in the water,
I'm drowning but you're not helping me.
I'm inhaling the salt of the never-ending ocean,
and it's stinging my wounds like an angry bee.
It's the darkness of the deep as I fall down;
consuming my life so I'm no longer free.
It's the desolation of my faded dreams;
their existence hollowed by impossibility.
It's the solitude of my mourning body
weeping over the loss of deceased memory.
My battle cries are standing alone
in an army of one fighting against me.
It's the tempest brewing in my halcyon head;
my tears of rain flooding immediately.
The voices of thunder in my ears
suffocating my mind with negativity.
It's the poison filling my every thought,
pushing me into a hole six feet deep.
