I call it what it is – a poem

Some call it
‘The black dog’.
‘Dark clouds ascending’.
‘An intense fog’.

I call it what it is
Depression.

As emptiness swirls around and around.
I am lonely,
even if surrounded by people I like.

For depression takes away joy.
Everything is hard work.
A challenge is getting out of bed,
If conquered I still feel like a failure.

My arms show battle scars,
Wars fought.
They show bloodshed
that I needed to fight depression.

For depression is a hungry beast.
Concentration and motivation are no more.
Caring is a thing of the past.

Depression is feeding my mind with melancholy music.

Feeding my stomach with food I can’t taste.
Or starving myself just to feel something.

It’s sleeping to avoid being awake,
Only to be tormented by nightmares.
Or it’s staying awake to avoid the nightmares.

Staying out of bed to avoid staring at ceilings,
Only to stare at the TV not watching at all.

Soon my Google search history is no longer ‘Tudors’ and ‘classical music’.
But ‘funerals’ ‘death’ and ‘Beachy Head’

This isn’t just sadness that I will get over if I only try harder.
This is physical pain and mental anguish.
A battle that many lose and that I have nearly lost so many times already.

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