May Wallows in Gloom

May does not know happiness at all. I leave her sitting there, clueless, angry and small. I help others up and it makes me happy when I am down, I say. She scoffs at this stupidity and tells me to get out, go away. I am depressed, and I want to die she yells, her voice a boom. I leave her wallowing in her self-imposed cloud of ugly gray gloom. She is determined to not help anyone, including herself, I think. If I could force her to do good, it might change her aura to pink.