Black MoodScattered, as on a strong wind these pieces like bits of a puzzle, where do they fit. Fragments of my life, I build, put together, and forge them into a shape, hoping it is the final shape I need to take to stay sane. Is it strong enough to hold? For the onslaught of my emotion will bring the black mood. Like a maelstrom storm flings debris, it has the power to break me. My unity of self, painstakingly built to thwart its design, seems but another delicacy for its ravenousness appetite to gorge greedily and consume.
Yet still I remain these tattered pieces. Left-over morsels of my sanity, not devoured by the rage, can not help me.
Yet I try again once the black mood has lifted, try to forge an unyielding lasting self, which all the powers that be can stand up and salute with respect and pride.
A self that will not be afraid to act on behave of those who suffer life’s cruel jests, for the sake of circumstance.
A self so selfless, the weak may look upon and find interminable strength and kindness in their own tormented hearts.
A self who through great deed may inspire purpose and love, amongst the depraved and demented souls of humanity, condemned by there actions to the living hell that life can be.
Delusions of a crazed mind, some would say, dreams of grandeur yet others. For me, it would mean a chance to prove to my self that all afflictions can be conquered, and that through it a better man may emerge.
Yet my pieces, strewn so, remain at the mercy of this black mood, the man emerging from it a stranger, even to himself. His noble spirit has no bearing on his action. I hope he finds the right way, which may overcome this black mood.