Obscura

A poem I wrote when I was in one of my depressed states.

Obscura

A dark mass is worming its way into my mind

A cold mass like force leaving all the light behind

It beseeches me to places I wish not to go to

I do things I later wish I had thought through

Rattles of distant buckets, empty little pails

Lure me down the darkest of endless trails

I think when I reach it I will find pleasure

When it is over it never meets its measure

I fill empty like a bucket with a hole in it

I leave unfulfilled feeling like a muddy pit

I try to think it's not really me and push it away

I know it really is though and I am afraid