Dying inside (Poem)

I come to bed at night and think
of misery that comes my way
Often not in physical form
but through my thoughts and mind instead,

A deepest darkness fills inside
And there is no real clear escape
When little things make major mountains
out of stupid little molehills that
mean much more than perhaps they should.

If folks could know when dealing with
the sadness that their comments bring
it’s just a number, that’s all it is
But to me it is my life
when you grab on to little things
those molehills put you into strife

I’ll never get my contentment back
those days are far and gone for good
I’d say I’m dying here inside
But death has come. My heart. No thud.