Slowly and methodically it takes from me.
Irrationality and fallacy becomes disconsolate reality.
Peace of mind and tranquility is my constant plea.
It thrives on anxiety and gradually leads to instability;
It takes from me.
In dark desolation I cannot see.
Dragging my cross I am thirsty and weary.
The seasons go by and I am devastated utterly.
In cold loneliness my existence is dreary;
It takes from me.
I had a dream of deep valleys and peaceful streams,
But it was consumed by trepidation and anguished screams;
Exhausted and in blight, on worn down bricks I lean.
Looking on they shun me; my pain is their hilarity;
With rotten teeth and foul breath they point and laugh at me.
I curse them under my breath in anger and with vile profanity;
Still it takes from me.
