The truth about…

No,
it’s not pretty like
the poems written about it,
it is sad and lonely
and loves solitude.
It feeds on silence and
screams the loudest.
It comes at dusk and doesn’t
depart at dawn-
it’s a sticker.

It whispers,
In tunes- entrancing,
Into its clutches;
It doesn’t let go,
Makes the cracked, feel
Broken; and the broken,
Feel damaged, and the damaged
Unfixable-
It’s a downward spiral.

Yes,
It’s defeat-able,
No,
It’s not like the switch
on a wall
To be turned,
Off at choice.
A journey it is,
With more bumps than
Most.
It is called depression,
Yes- it is real.

The above picture is courtesy of Bbc.co.uk