It is Nothing Really

hill & hollow

Trying to wrest my mood from the dark side,
I cling to the path
well-worn from years of mindless wandering.
That same heaviness plagues my heart,
rending my chest in two.

It is nothing really.

Just the dance on the edge of that cliff-
the one at times I find myself
teetering and scrabbling,
struggling to find firmer ground.

It is nothing really.

Though at this moment
it seems more like quicksand
or a rabbit hole
or a trap door
or something.

But it is nothing,
really.