Sadness at the Chasm

A poem about despair and the ever-present choice to revoke it.

There is a vast and bottomless

Dark and hungry, raging abyss.

It’s quiet here on the precipice

Of the void that stole all the things I miss.

 

I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve again,

Stitched carefully onto my cardigan.

The nothing reached out, said it’d be my friend;

Give me back all it took if I’d only descend

 

Down, down, down into cold wet black.

If I did this, it said it would give it all back.

Oh this clever pit has honed its knack

Of turning my sorrow into its snack.

 

Do I have nothing more to look forward to?

Is there nothing more in this life I can do

To attain the clumsy joy that I knew?

To reclaim my light from the Icy blue?

 

Though today I am every bit pigeon-toed sadness,

My heart from its sleeve cautioned me of this madness,

For what can be gained from a vast, bottomless,

Dark and hungry, raging abyss?