Depression's Sonnet II

Shall I remove thine heart and mind through verse?
or swoon away the gloom and sentiment?
To bleed through breath for thine infamous curse?
or choke this quill to pen my detriment?
To write a line or verse is strenuous,
For words cannot expel description’s fill
when I can only see distressing bliss
among the fog that sits o’er hearts and quills.
Thou art the fog that shades this poet’s pen,
Now all the world is dark and separate,
Mine eyes hast judged thy beauty as mine end
(My heart accepts my parchment’s deficit);
Thou art a rhyme that I cannot dispose,
With musing I hast made the pen my foe.