Cry

I find comfort in the fact
Something good will happen,
Not the fact that
Something good could happen.
But it's hard to be so hopeful
With depression knocking,
And despair sneaking in
Through the upstairs window.
The stairway is dark...
Melancholy, I've found,
Needs no light
To find a way.
And I'm cradling myself
In the corner,
The moldy, nasty, wet corner.

I've cried many times before
This one.

12/22/07