The power of memories

Behold our enemy! dark despair

In her hand a scythe, of power uncompared

It slices happiness and destroys mirth

To destruction and depression it gives birth...

She corners her victim, in a room so bare - 

Powdering walls reflect the dark scythe's flare,

She doesn't hurt him - oh no instead

She shows him the worst thoughts in his head.

At first he grasps around for a happy thought

But all around he finds nothing but rot

He falls to his knees, his mind terrified

But then a small ray of light catches his eye.

He turns around and looks aghast

As a sword materializes - he sees sees his past

He sees the smiles of faces so dear

And memories made - of hugs and cheer.

He smiles and takes the sword so dear 

And turns to face his despair and drear

But to his surprise she is nowhere in sight

And the room is now lit with the sword's warm light.

And thus spoke the sword with a booming voice:

"She's gone - you see, you made a choice,

In darkness you remembered the beauty of life - 

You didn't loose hope in the face of strife."

Theresa. V