Days like these
Where sadness is the only option that you have,
You cannot let it win.
It is the monster underneath my bed,
It is the white noise in my head.
The memories are surly and capricious.
The songs that they sing are redolent of my past failures.
Always insuperable to anything but sleep,
I always fall
But this time?
No more lethargic, sedentary actions will be taken to eliminate these pains.
Only propitious works can come from these thoughts.
For now, those ugly, malevolent thoughts will be brushed under the rug until I have the strength
To over come them.