Scales

A brief poem on the ever-changing landscape of the depressed mind.

The scales are always tipping,
This way or that.
Slowly on their fulcrums.
The incessant movements,
The incomprehensible weights,
The infinities of imbalance.

Then there is you.
This irreconcilable wreck,
Shuddering misunderstanding,
Thimble of a being.
Thinking yourself gravity,
That you might create balance.

Woe when you don't.
Whining like a child,
Are you not enough?
Well-wisher that you are.
Wading in misunderstanding,
Wisdom always eluding you.

Waxing and waning is my mind,
Worn are these scales.
You are not enough.
Weary are my thoughts,
Wending their way between
Wants, and fears, and all the like, endlessly.