Testimony of a voluntary victim

Sadness is the drug
That seeps into your soulstream
And leadens your eyelids and steps
Then follows you into your dreams.
It finds you in your tiny corner,
And makes you its witness,
Leads you by the hand through the day,
Without the comfort of quickness.
 you let it sit on your lips
And pull them down,
Tie up your hands
And bind you so you can drown.
You give it permission
To hold you hostage,
It fills you up inside
Until you're the skin of its sausage.
You carry it within you wherever you go,
And it becomes your truth,
Your companion and your communication,
And you think that it soothes,
the burning of your scars,
like a melancholy gauze application.
You walk in the space between the moonlight,
And forget the sensation,
Of sun on your skin,
Of laughter in your throat,
and lightness in your being,
And it giggles and it gloats,
While it robs you of your wings,
And you wonder what happened
To the many, many things
That used to be the reason you awakened,
And looked in the mirror,
Instead of sighing into the sink,
These are the meanings of that weight in your gut.
These are the things you forgot to think.