Depressed

Depressed as a cloud, my action fails,
From confusion to pain we decide the acts
That are to be recorded in the book we love.

The chemical resounds in our heads,
The heart seeps into the existent walls;
Then dear dreams enter the mind of sleep,
Elastic hearts contort us while we work.

This is delirious depression, the clever act
Of a nightmare offered to us from above,
This colourful action afflicts me as boring.