Short Depressing Poems

Habits

I now lay in bed. Envisioning it.

The cool, the collected. The steel.

I've already thrown my self in a pit,
There's nothing left to gain or lose.

I dream of the skyline being sliced by the sun into blood red.

Oh how beautiful the ocean is when it is tainted.

Hah. I thought it was habit I had forsaken.

Little did I know it was an infestation that would never leave. Like an idea never really leaves an inventors mind

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This is  very different from my usual. But I feel different...