It Becomes Me
By Laura Adkins

It becomes me, I think,
this lethargic demeanor.
My face seems no better
with a smile than a frown.
These eyes bleed melancholy,
the lips below them drown
in pointless tears;
they pool in the pout.

I see no use for radiance,
I've nothing against gray.
Merriment and Gaiety
are overrated anyway.
I will survive this sea of gloom --
The boiling current shall not consume!
Yet I still fear that hungry sea
for I find that it's becoming me.

All writing is copyright LAURA ADKINS. Internet-posted work is protected under copyright law. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED