Spit it out

This isn’t the matrix
But I swallowed a pill.
I walked up the long dark hill.
A chill, damp sadness entered in,
a white knuckled grip of sorrow with black eyes, dead to light.
And tonight?
I don’t have the energy to put up a fight.

But there's something here at the top.
A Giant, waiting, holding onto a tea-light lantern
in oversized hands, dangling on his pinky finger, barely holding on.
It catches my eye.

Sadness is hard to swallow
but easy to maintain.
It seeps into your veins.
If you’re not careful it will define.