20/5/10

Hurt.
Sorrow.
Betrayal.
Disappointment.
Confusion.

I fell to the lowest levels of despair,
But no hand came to me,
Apart from the hand of Depression.
No rope came to me,
To pull me up.
No ladder came to me,
For me to climb up.
Nothing came at all
To rescue me
From the pits of despair.
Nothing.

I guess I should just remain there, dejected and devoid of social interaction.
Maybe that would be better for everyone.