A Phantom of a Dead Sea

I sunk through the Stairway to hell,

Now it’s so heavy how I feel,

Like a boulder on my chest

And a nail, nailed in my heart.

I question thee,

Have you ever felt like this?

Like buried alive in midwinter

Or being alone in the deepest pits of earth.

I hear a shrilling scream_

In fear I looked up, though

The sun is shining still,

Only black rays I see, only black rays I feel.

On my skin it leaves the mark

Of a rinsed cloth and a dead bark.

But I, with the sensation of bleak,

Feeling the numbness on my fingertips:

And whatever it touches,

Starting to beat like a pulse,

Though the origin is blank,

A fruitless phantom of dead impulse.

Background - "An Abstract painting of a Sea"

Now it a depressing poem that I wrote in my days of quarantine. And it actually strikes pretty well. Hope many of you can relate to the tone of this poem.
I felt shabby sometimes, like sinking in a river or whatever and finding that there's no one besides me. I lose hope; there's not a single person exists who can soothe me. I know how hard it is to survey those thoughts and feelings in words but what can I do? - it all came out naturally, eventually forming a poem that others will enjoy.
In those days of Isolation, I rather felt exhausted being alive. And day after day I suffocated myself with these thoughts of self-destruction. Still, I am able to fight back those feelings. Thanks to poetry that helped me to fill up the hollowness of my heart.
There's nothing more exact than a free-verse to supply comfort to a poet. And I indulge in it.

Imagination and Saptarshi