Depression
She sat tight in the corner with her head on her knees,
As she quietly begged, let me kill myself please.
With a knife tightly gripped in her left hand,
Life as she thought was not going as she planned.
Depression was her lover an enticing lonely friend,
She had everything she wanted but it beckoned her to her end.
But the words “don’t do it” was expressed in a soft tiny voice,
She heard it many a time before in her head giving her a choice.
But this time the voice kept on talking more than before,
She mimicked the words while sitting on the cold kitchen floor.
Her eyes darted from side to side as if reading it from an invisible book,
And without realising it, the pain she felt subsided as she shook.
The voice was definitely hers, but what it said healed her pain,
The depression that she experienced was no longer driving her insane.
The voice said “Child why do you contemplate killing yourself?”
“The next time you feel this way just call my name and I will help”
“What’s your name?” she screamed out, but the voice had gone,
It was six months later depression serenaded the death ritual song.
Depression was out to kill her, she sat and cried like a child
“Jesus help me please!” then remembered and began to laugh and smile
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