Depression

Wont concede this is depression but yes, there’s 

an air of subjugation in wretchedness; its th’ pain 

you can’t put a handle on or anguish suppressed 

where there’s no justice: misery speaks a cruelly 

aggravated litany of ruthless exploitation and the  

suffering thence behests more of the same - this 

is an irony when there’s nothing but icons where 

whim builds myopic mountains of tepid tyranny 

So we drag ourselves away from self-despair; if 

we’d be authors of our own shame lets record it 

fairly - whose ideas curdled th’ soup that seems 

to’ve been produced in a misconceived batch of 

misanthropic ‘n depressive melancholy blamed 

f’ where we’ve claimed to’ve found its cavities 

© 18 June 2016, I. D. Carswell