The mood is dull, the mood is dead,
Waking up is something I dread,
The skies are a light shade of black,
I feel its weight on my gentle back,
My footsteps are heavy, weighed with guilt,
I turn to look at the life I have built,
A deep swell of sadness is what is presented,
My lust for life has now thus lamented,
Stained floors,
Stained walls,
Stained thoughts,
Nothing is clear except my gratitude for meaning,
My infected mind needs much cleaning,
Please, help me out of my deepening hole,
I climb and slip on the edges of this bowl.
Stationary, locked, in a world of movement,
My life shows now conscious improvement,
I am but living in a deep deep place,
I feel my mind, my life, my soul
Is now out to waste.

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