It was a heavy,
Impenetrable fog
Which crept over him
From time to time,
Dampening his spirits,
Robbing him
Of his vitality.
When the mood
Came over him,
All he felt like doing
Was crawling in bed,
Putting the pillow
Over his head,
And going to sleep,
Trying to avoid
Rather than live life.
It would coat everything
In drab grayness,
That would linger
For days on end
If he let it,
But from experience
He had learned
To overcome
Those feelings
With action and effort.
No matter how
Lethargic he felt,
He would force
Himself to get up
And do something,
Anything!
He refused to let
How he felt
Govern him
Or undermine his attitude.
He had seen plenty
Of others
Who would try to
Drown their sorrows,
Or resort to Prozac
To elevate their spirits
When confronted by
The melancholy blues.
But he never felt the need
For he could
Always tame them
On his own.
Monday, November 10, 2008
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