Depression

There's nothing to hold on to When you begin to slide, And the walls begin to crumble And you have nowhere to hide. I look to find the child in me, That stranger to anxiety, But the footholds of my history Are blurred footprints in the sand. I try to hold on to the bars of a song But the music isn't playing, the metre is all wrong. The stars in the sky are darkened, My anchors have all gone. Like driftwood borne upon the flow Of some almighty undertow I am washed up on the shore, Cracked and broken like before. I am under no delusion This will come to some conclusion I'm rattling the gates of Bethlehem But I won't be allowed in there again So I'll settle for the sanctuary of sleep And let oblivion wash this pain into the deep.