Depression

 

I am not sure when

I remember the first time

The grayness hit my eyes

But I have not yet denied

The knowledge that it brought

To make me survive

It. Maybe I was a child,

I remember that I was so small,

But maybe I have always been small,

And my eyes were not wrinkly.

My hands were not crooked at all

But my smiles were.

The first time I felt it tickle my brain

And demand my attention.

It tickled my brain and

My redemption.

A throat filled up with

It trying to catch my breath

And wanting to choke me,

Wanting my sanity,

It felt it suited me,

For I was nothing.

I almost died.

And then I almost died again

And again and again and again

Until feeling like “I do not want

To keep on doing this” turned into

“I know how how do this and then

How to survive this” 

To turn back to ok.

Maybe the cure for my depression

Was more depression.

But I still do not want it back.

But I still fear the next return

Will end me.

So this time when sadness tears

At the corners

Fear plants its 

Own kernels.

I almost forgot the way it takes me down.

I might have forgotten what to do.

I forget the way the light looks.