Moribund

Moribund

The spark of my soul

is restless. Relentlessly running

from the riotous

ruins of the summer.

 

Perilously pursued by morose

monstrous thoughts bought mercilessly

by the morass

of my moribund mind.

 

Fall flickers ahead, destination

detoured by potential devastation

and the demon

designated, identified, named: Depression.

4 thoughts on “Moribund

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