Cloak of sadness

The sun comes out,

I fail to see it, and just reach out for my cloak,

My heavy old dark cloak of sadness,

Guilt from people no longer with me,

All my mistakes and words against me.

I breathe,

I look down and spill my energy into the ground,

Condemn the day, knowing there’s hours more of pain

This is my darkness, my heavy sadness

A tattoo of living death, etched on my heart.

“You can get out.”

“You can’t get out.”

Both voices are me.

An embrace and a whip both at once.

I hug myself,

But my cloak is heavy, I go down

Like a sailor with nausea at sea,

My phone—just another rock, no messages coming in.

I failed. It wasn’t the plan.

The script wasn’t like this.

Sun — I give up. Warm me, guide me, teach me, show me.

Let’s go in the forest, before I befall,

And bury this cloak, once and for all.