The Pit

From the bottom of the well, Alone in my personal hell, I see nothing but despair, In this depressing air. Blinded by inability, not knowing what is to be, Wanting to push on, But in its place I yawn. Taking in this atmosphere, Filling me full of fear, Will I ever get out of here? Small hopes still remain, As time will ordain, A new spring has emerged, And old burdens will be purged.