Morose

A mist of pity and sadness surrounds me. Light and billowy but engulfing, nonetheless. My head is enveloped in it, preventing any clear thought. This feeling of morose is always present. My attempts to forget it are unsuccessful. It still follows me as if it were my shadow. I can't rid myself of it. It's a feeling in my gut, a dew in my head. It's something which I cannot comprehend and though I try so hard to find the words, I still fail. It's not right. Just as my spirits begin to escalate, there is something, a barracade, a boundary, preventing me from being completely happy. Preventing me from being complete.