Depression kicking me again,
Bringing visions of personal hells
Lamenting all my bad decisions
Which is what it does excel.
It’s not animalistic,
It is not wholly sad, just grey,
An amorphous blob sucking hope,
Leaving self in disarray.
Depression striking up its tune,
Its melody a nasty trope
Filled with abject emptiness.
Killing all my hope.
It was never a “black Dog”,
Just a soul sucking void
A bitter representation of self,
A mangled disused toy.
Which is why I’m lying on the bed,
Falling apart at the seams,
Crying empty emotive words
Shattering empty dreams.