Depression

The searing, vicious wind bit at my skin

I tilted my head down and kept forward

A quick glance upwards offered barren hills

Cascading throughout the dystopia

My path consisted of a gravel road

The clouds above were a generic gray

An ominous black entity sat far;

Hinting at a destructive storm, looming.

I walked with an increasingly brisk gait.

My end goal laid between words never said

And feelings bottled up internally,

Twisting downwards on the cusp of despair