The funk.

Like a slope coated in a thick layer of soap,
With a pit promised at the very black bottom.
A mental break down brought on to break down,
Every thought that bounces inside of the brain.
I'm stuck in the middle of this old platform,
Aging and eroding more each moment.

Sometimes honesty is the most terrifying thing,
Vulnerability comes in and takes the horizon.
Where a sun should be setting or rising,
Or a dark sky should be covered in starlight.
Truth is this is growing more and more exhausting,
A battle that I don't quite understand.

Venture on, move along, do something at least.
It's kind of hard here, with the rock and hard place.
Things will grow better, if I allow myself time.
But, time is moving pretty damn fast,
Scary to think that in a blink I'm here again.
Logically I never quite got to get away.

A yawn emerges from the depths of my lungs,
And I know that soon I'll be tired enough to sleep.
Wake tomorrow with a better outlook if I'm lucky,
You see... This is my description of the funk.
It's just a day cloaked in shitty emotions,
Memories, feelings, and dead optimism.