Collapsing into oneself like an ultra dense singularity,
What an enigma is the blackhole of depression.
Steeped like Heisenberg in so much uncertainty.
Torn apart by the disproportionate gravitational force meant to keep you grounded.
Increasingly, its weight upon you grows,
leaving you colder inside.
In the depths where not a ray of light can escape is the sufferer bounded.
Pain hidden from sight like a lump of coal swallowed by the black of night in a swirling tide.
Only visible through effects on external bodies.
Beware the event horizon with its deadly gamma and x-ray radiation, or you'll get sucked in too.
Past the point of no return, position shoddy.
E=mc-squared, mass disintegrating.
Mathematically, at least now the sufferer has energy.
About the Creator
Dee Meinville
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."- Mr. Knightley, Austen's Emma
Struggling med student, tortured soul (what poetess isn't), devoutly Catholic. I write to express what goes unsaid and to stand for the voiceless.
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