This is a poem that I wrote a few years ago when I was going through something very traumatic. It was actually pretty hard reading it again because it brought back things that I was feeling and it is difficult reliving those emotions. But, I have grown and all is well and I thought I would share. It's sad and kind of depressing, but I'm sure I'm not the only person that has been in such a dark place.

Why Even Try

Why even try?
In the desert wastelands of my interior,
Long since left to decay and fester.
Irreparable destruction widespread like some self-made disaster,
I am broken.
Instead of growth there is only spoil as seeds do not flourish here anymore.
The blue that lived in the skies fled and is now black.
Love dares not show her face,
And life hangs her head in despair at how lost her child is.
The winds have ceased to blow and the air is full of dank.
The smell of acrid water hanging in the air as if suspended by unbreakable chain…rusted.
The key lost ages ago.
No one lives here.
No one can.
Those that tried left with a sigh,
A tear falling in a land where tears no longer have the will to fall…
All have given up as they softly ask themselves in a voice no louder than a whisper, but with the fury of a roar…
Why even try?

It's sad and kind of depressing,

It certainly is, Abrihetx.....

Why even try indeed? I've gotten myself down-in-the-dumps now I've read it. Thanks a bundle!

I read your poem earlier today and was reminded of Yeats (of all people) and immediately re-read The Wanderings of Oisin.

Completely unrelated, but what the hey... inspiration is serendipity itself.

Nice work.