Aberrant with a Mad Mind

What is this incubus that has adumbrated my congenital being?

This languishing deadness to be ensconced within me?

It evulses on my spirits,

This dolor feasting on my viscera.

Swallowing my heart into the desolation of my own lugubriosity.

Every conforming characteristic wears a mask of nihility.

My former purely depreciated.

Despair has carved me away and molded me into insignificancy.

Sunken into a void,

Left behind to fill the gape?

Are the anguished waters of despondency,

That wore away what I once was.

No prior self lingers.

Cloaked by the shadows.

Of which, have clasped their fingers around the beatitude of my vigor.

Rigorously stripped me of my mortality.

Gaze intently at the haze in my eyes.

One can see its forgery.

Witness how the agony dwells inside of me.

How the roots have proliferated,

And planted my anew.

The inhabitance has stricken me ennui.

The lassitude is indolently sulked amidst my solemn expression.

Desires and hopes diminished.

The yearning for achievement vanished.

The comforting routine of hobbies amnesiac.

I crave nothing.

I require nothing.

So leave me alone,

For I am forlorn