Unsound

Forgive the exclusivity of my downfall,
so sullen and exact in its temperament,
this steady dejection outlasting the best of moods,
one turn of gaze and I wonder of things near and far,
the places they sprung from,
the places they will go to dwell,
I wonder if my destination should be tied to them steadfastly,
where would I be one day,
far from the mania I deem supreme,
away from the darkness that looms beyond the haze,
a swirl of inexorable woe so murky it mistifies.

I feel neither grounded nor heightened,
liberated nor imprisoned.
I wander in the field of dreams,
removed from reality,
if only for a moment.

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