Poem: "Dejection"

This is a short poem that occurred to me earlier today. Please let me know what you think in the comments. :-)

Dejection:

My spirit is a mirror: if the day

Is fair and breezy, then I feel at ease

And nothing’s wrong. But if the sky is grey

My feelings blacken, and I start to seize

As though a demon had me in his hand,

Had bound me to a chair inside a room

Where sound and light can never venture, and

Where souls are sent to writhe in unjust doom.

And there I stay, and there my spirit rots.

The hours and days traverse their course, and I

Am stuck with an eternity that blots

Sun from my soul and passion from my eye.

This is dejection: not a proclamation,

But one long lack of things that charge the mind

With feeling; it is not an incarnation

Of meaning; but instead it leaves me blind

Within the gutted cavern of the soul,

Where I can hear dark echoes, close but faint,

Of desperation and depression’s toll,

And that which gives my speech a foreign taint.

It makes me utter words that aren’t my own,

It makes me conjure foreign sentiments

And passions that I’d otherwise outgrown,

And places pain in lieu of common sense.