Blackness from within

Despairing in a state of agony, for what feels like an eternity. I continue circling, present with constant fear, in a carousel of tragedy. But slowly I regret, all the moments spent alone, all the memories I ended up losing, and all the days, where I lay at home. But still I'm slipping through the cracks, of this dark continuity, filled with adequate anger and accompanying hostility. With every little step, there'd be no more going back, but there see a little crevice, a form of light so bright. Drowsed in remorse, I pick myself up. I'll fight till I win I say, but there was no point being hopeful. I'm tired of all the pain, and the misery that resides, for I wish that I could live, and my soul returns to white. Maybe if I struggle with all my collected might, and all my agony subdued, will there finally be a way, will I be able to reach out to the light, will I finally get a say? And yet in unknown insanity, my arms refuse to move, visibly unsure of what else there remains to do. But I knew all along. My fate itself is back where I belong. Circling endlessly in a carousel of tragedy, patiently waiting for the end of my fateful capacity. In the end, all that remains, this mind of undeniable malady.