Depression

A Shakespearean Sonnet musing on depression

Everything I know is totally black
Completely Engulfed in a black, dark, void
I think it's over I'm starting to crack
Everything I once loved I will avoid
Walls are closing in on my broken mind
Nothing seems to be good anymore
And everything I know I am inclined
To look at forlornly in my torpor
Anhedonia is a lack of pleasure
In thing's one finds to be enjoyable
I am stuck in this all, in this term: ether
Of my withered soul, everything is cruel
But I still believe in a thing called hope
I hope I'm not at the end of my rope