The scarlet flush on the apples of her cheeks,
Dreaming of her fallen love,
As her mind settles,
Settles in theory,
But forever she is locked,
In a hazy, foggy site of a world.

No amount of needles,
No amount of pills,
No amount of talking,
On a simple black couch,
Can erase the black,
Settled over her thoughts and dreams.

Dreams of course no longer dreams,
But never ending nightmares,
Waking and living,
With her mind screaming,
Pulse racing,
The fog around her thoughts,
Continually getting thicker.

Wanting nothing more than an end,
and end to the perpetual sorrow.
Sorrow which has consumed her.
Every Second,
Of every minute,
of every hour,
Of every day.

She walks as if floating on the fog of her mind,
Thick and deep under her feet,
Only continuing the support,
Of this never ending nightmare.

She wonders if she will ever find solace,
A way to escape,
A way to survive,
The fog.