I’m not exactly depressed,
But I must be speared at the cusp
I do cry regularly these days
I suppose it’s a general melancholy
I’ve made peace with the past;
I know it’s over 
Nothing grabs my attention these days
Things don’t excite me like they should
I do enjoy interacting with certain people
But then it’s over
And I’m back to my own devices and thoughts
This morose phase has become my norm
Nothing truly distracts
I seek a love, a purpose, something!
I feel I am stuck in a transitional phase
I know it’s necessary, but it’s now prolonged
I’ve had glimpses of movement, 
Was overjoyed…then crestfallen;
It turned out to be mere inches
Patience, always have patience
The tortoise wins the race – yes, yes, yes!
Life goes on…


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