An empty channel broadcasting white noise
Could not be blanker than I felt that day.
The customary, effervescent joys
That coat existence had been stripped away
And all that I was left was tightness, pain,
And certainty that somehow I had been
Wronger than I dared to think: insane.
Even looking back I can't begin
To contemplate experiencing that
Again, and still surviving it. That raw
Exposure to my sadness simply sat
Within my soul, and with a hungry maw
Ate up my happiness. I pray it will
Never return; I cower from it still.
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