Depression bites my tongue,
Don't speak, don't eat, don't call for help,
You're far too weak.
It calls my name, tells me i'm lame,
And I sit here in defeat.
My depression is curdling, souring,
Becoming for butter and bitter with each passing day,
Yet i stay.
It tightens my skin, showing bones
That are really a cage which
Have trapped me in its claws
But there is nothing i can do.
Each other melts into another day i have not eaten
Each day melts into a week
Where i haven't left my house
Each week melts into a month
Where i am losing my battle
With depression.
Note: I'm okay! XD. It may seem I'm going through a super rough time but I swear I'm good.
