Ardently Reject the Counterfeit – Sonnet XXXVIII

I’m dragging low these last and several days
But also wound as tightly as a drum.
The sludge of ennui ‘neath a frantic thrum;
My heart and mind each pulling separate ways;
I follow one and find the other slays.
Depression bids me feed it just a crumb;
Anxiety – my appetite lies numb.
I hold on tightly – pray it’s just a phase.

One daybreak dawns – I find that all is bright;
My situation changed? No, not a whit.
But all at once the words flow – bid me write,
And verse appears where blank page used to sit.
Confounded why such seasons bring sere blight;
I ardently reject the counterfeit.