Lines of dreams, depression and time

I am a lonely searcher
of the path of darkness
seeking the dreams
that smell loss and curiosities.

I am standing with a broken mind
in front of the temple
of time.

Screams are audible
from a valley of fear
to which shadows come
and darkness grows.

Mind is a wounded
womb in which the red sperm of
depression is kept,

A womb made up of
my thoughts,
my dreams, my imagination
those were crushed
under the rough
wheels of time,
one child hood
that dreamt colours
long before,
and perhaps
my friendships
those turn to loss..

.....................................

I say,
this life is of
sadness,
and happiness
is just a dream.