Slipping Into Despair

I lean over the precipice of gloom. Once I start to slide down this compelling spiral, nothing can stop me from plunging into a cycle of hideous self-detestation. Doubts destroy my soul. No love, no confidence clings on. The only care I possess found me through a fragile, shallow delusion, delicate enough to break under the weight of the slightest honesty. I am free of all true-sightedness; the world is mutilated by pessimism. My unacceptable knowledge consists of false facts. What I see lacks the open-hearted hope I once sold myself, for nothing is worth hope. Hideousness overwhelms the delay of sorrow. It cannot wait any longer, so I fall into the welcome ground of death.