Written by: belinda morgan

Depressed, I sometimes walk the stairs of depression long and steep.
Black pooling darkness lays ahead, your evil ways surly creep.
A sad coward with a wretched and twisted plan.
You assumed that I was weak, I would throw up my trembling hands.

I woke up,  could not play that special fool.
Your behavior, an unexpected jolt as the heat in my blood cooled.
Depression reaching and flowing around my stunned heart.
While sparks of me flutter in gloomy dark.

My mind bulging in surreal pity and cold regret.
A soul riddled with stinging scares and bumps, seeking hard to forget.
Oddly tattered by the pricks of crying pain.
Depression is the only thing i have gained.