a metaphor poem dealing with depression
Dust plagues the eyes,
Distracts with a bleak, rough sensation.
Fierce irritant, no relief,
Muddled grime obscures perception,
View blurs from a little grain of sand.
Complete concentration brought to this disturbance.
Soon the only thought is the dust,
All else diminishes to the rear of the mind.
The nuisance of the grit dominates and defeats.
Meticulous development steers swiftly downward until vision is forfeit.
Where is all I once beheld?
Such dejection from this corruption.
One tiny spec of dust,
The cause of all distress.
Is there a tourniquet
For this inconvenience?