Complaint of a Depressive

My reproach is like the mournful willow:
Roots of sorrow tangle beneath.
Before the leaves fell to the ground,
already they knew of secret tears.
Dim sunlight sparkles in the raindrops
that hang from the narrow branches:
the jewels that nature gave to me
and cast down to rest in the dirt.

Advertisements

So, what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s