The Depths Of Despair Poem by J. Fern Mossely

I've often wondered what the depths of despair is like.
Now I know.
Can there be words to express such grief?
Such sorrow?
Such anguish?
No, there is not.
One can only try to simplify into words ones feelings in a state such as this.
The meadows and brooks of this mighty land moan in my sorrow.
The dead beasts cry out in unison to me in anguish.
The trees.
They sway in pity for this girl of defeated dreams.
It brings me to my knees to weep in humble agony.
There are no words for Despair.
Despair forshadows every living thing which it passes.
It carries a cloud of gloom over the fields of cattle; the mountains of mockingbirds; the sea, full of lost souls; the people in a helpless hamlet; the masses in a crowded city; the battlefield, where countless men have spilled their blood in vain.
Yes, my friends, this is true Despair.
It reeks of blood and rotting flesh.
It seeks to steal, kill, and destroy.
Steal away any happiness that may come from a blooming rose.
Kill any child that may smile in destruction.
Destroy a world of prosperity.
This is the depths of Despair.