Depression.
It aches, it tears at you.
It sits idly by
watching as you sink deeper and deeper in.
It takes your hand
and whispers bitter-sweet nothings in your ear.
It has no pity.
It has no love.
It feeds your love of self.
Your desperation makes it laugh.
Your faith in self affects it not.
It's like a silent, peaceful bird
It's a roaring beast out to kill.
It cares not
for what you think or feel
Despite the lies it tells.
And yet you
can do nothing against it
cannot fight it
cannot defeat it.
It's stronger, it is more cunning.
It seeks destruction
and its power is death...
But did you know there's always hope?
(for several friends, but especially E.M.)
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