Depression Demon
Heaviness, in whole, would be the first sign,
A sapping of strength,
A falling from grandeur.
A sleepless drowsing fog is next in line,
Confusion sets in,
Frustration soon after.
You may feel weak as your mind falls apart,
The way that you meant it,
The way that you can’t.
Remember, stay calm, don’t work up your heart,
Your mind still has value,
Even one recalcitrant.
The imp will fill gaps in your mind with cement,
Faster than you can think,
Slowing your creation.
The fog will grow larger, an all encompassment,
Disabling all motive,
Atrophying constitution.
Acceptance is key to combating the burden,
Though the fog is still heavy,
And cannot be changed.
We must only accept the weight of the hell spawn,
Take seven deep breaths,
And it will give chase.
The fog will lift some, enough to see day,
While we recollect,
Refocused, refilled.
But demons of depression are unique in a way,
It can never “really” do harm,
And it can never “really” be killed.
— — —
(To be real for a second, I’ve been feeling completely under the weight of depression lately. It’s a familiar bed fellow.
I know the solution is just to keep doing what I’m doing, but have you ever walked a road for so long you start to wonder if you’ll even be glad you expended the energy? Have you ever walked in so many different directions, that you you end up just feeling more lost than when you started?
That’s this poem, I guess. I’ve been trying so hard to find something that would, at least, make me feel like the swim to reach the ocean was really worth it. But I guess ‘Soul’ was right…
“This ain’t the ocean, this is just water.”
Water off a duck’s back, I suppose.)
