Depression

It feels like fighting nature. Like- trying to force the seasons to change. Knowing that I’ll have to do this forever. Putting things away and away… Shoving things in drawers, and closet spaces, And luggage, and bags. And even a lunchbox some days. Like shoveling snow, And it always snows again. Then the snow gets harder and turns to ice… It’s a jacket this time. The jacket is crumpled and crumpling. But it’s scary, like holding a snake. I’m going to throw this on the floor, Even though my mom will be angry again. And yelling, But the yelling feels further away and away. But the yelling hurts less than… The pain of putting things away.