The Mirror of My Mind

Sorrow darkens the smile bright weakening the power of ones own light bringing forth shadows spite. The colors of the world turn black and white shattering laughters delight allowing despairs fire to ignite burning joys happy life like rain running kindling on a cold dark night. Nevermore as the cry of Edgar Allan Poe whose raven took flight decimating all that seems just and right, and confining all to the darkest of nights. This is called Depressions' Might. It often breaks birds wings in flight sending them into a nose dive, and during the quick descent causes them to wonder if they are going to die or if by some sheer good luck they might survive mangled and broken but still alive. In these moments they no longer have pride just agony, pain, and the need to cry. When this time has passed and bones have mended they still feel miseries grip unending like a long dark tunnel of sorrows rending. They feel like a fairytale without a happy ending whose saviour prince is covered in thorns unbending like a sacrifice for the dragon against whom he ought to be defending the princess in the tower dreaming of his love and a new beginning freed of her captors horrible torment and lamenting. Sorrow often feels like the sharp edge on a curved, and barbed, double edged knife quick but agonizing like death in the night this is Depressions' might hidden in the depths of this shadow of the mind.