A Place To Sit
Depression can be…
Startling with bulging eyes.
Floral patterned nothings.
Maybe a place to sit.
It would be like…
Plopping down into a puddle for no reason.
I’ve been driven.
I used to go to work and school.
Buildings and such.
Rambling on.
But the magic is like a wood chipper.
For nothing.
Depression is like a magical “Whooshing” sound.
All the magical clouds just convene.
With hearts that restart for nothing.
You can’t really go to work or school.
That was the “Whooshing.”
The “Used To, I Used To.”
Depression could have been plopping down in the puddle.
The half constructed drive.
I’ve been driven.
Someone else did the driving.
Drove me.
Maybe there is a place to sit.
There is also ethereal randomness.
I counted on it too much.
I counted on it too much.
What?
Magical clouds and-
Maybe a place to sit.
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