Shadow's Prey

This world I cannot spin upon the tips of my fingers.

Out of my control, the seasons come and go:

Icicle tears of Winter chiseling down my cheeks,

Spring rains weathering away things that I once held dear,

The Summer Sun setting ablaze fragments that remain,

and Fall, so deceiving with it's colors,

enchanting hues of burgundy and gold,

constructed to signify change: a new beginning...

All it really means is death.

I can feel the darkness curling around my ankles,

drowning me down into the oh so familiar abyss.

A fool was I to believe I had lost this darkness,

because you can never run from your shadow.

This is not a poem that I have recently written, but what I find strange is that I wrote this on December 3rd, 2013. A year ago I was in this same dark state of mind as I have been feeling lately this year. I wonder if this is something that has always come back during this time every year? This time feels different, though. Rather than curling up in a pathetic ball of hopelessness, I feel as though I'm trying this time. These past two posts may not seem like so, but trust me when I say that I think I'm doing fine handling it this time. I have high hopes.