existing with melancholy

I am sad, all the time. 

Even when I am happy. 

There is a pit in my chest. 

Everything I do is enrobed in grief. 

My mom is gone. 

And that is in everything I do. 

My dad is gone. 

And that is in everything I do. 

I have lost these parts of me that I will never get back. 

A vital, intricate part of me. 

Is gone. 

I am seeing the world through the distorted lenses of grief.