1-3-5-7 Poem about Autumn

Autumn's dusk is falling.

The twilight threatens to engulf me,
Steal me away to a remote asylum
My soul is being snatched, I'm never coming back.

My hands grasp at the fathomless void,
Frantically probing for a source of light
Any enlightenment for my condition,
That of being too human, too mortal,
Held captive by the waning sunlight.

The convoluted dysphoria
And stymieing anhedonia
Slowly hew away my will to live
Until I pray out of desperation
For some Faustian apparition
To grant me happiness
In exchange for my soiled, leaden soul.