How is it called . . . . . . . . . .

When the brilliance of new mornings
chases the constellations away
and never seen more splendid dawn
radiant, magical
every day Summer – new born
precious, cherished
rare
Very soon
darkness finds us there
following with grotesque intent
invades us in our happy places
intersperses gloom in our joyous spaces
How is it called?
Depression

~ Geneva J Wiggins

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