Depression
It arrives without warning and others can't see
It wears out its welcome immediately
An evil spirit, sent from the Devil for sure
Not an trace of compassion, not a chance of a cure
It swallows my body without my consent
It's derived of nothing, but poisonous intent
It's wicked and potent, its persistence, hard core
A thorn lodged in my side, an invisible sore
It's that pain in my heart that can't be explained
Saddened and fatigued, physically drained
Commonly diagnosed as lazy or rude
To avoid humiliation, I tend to allude
So I awaken exhausted yet toss and turn all night
Just surviving the day is my most difficult fight
Occasionally it will loosen its grip on my soul
For a moment I am calm and mentally whole
Just as I begin to settle and gain my strength back
That's when it returns for a surprise attack
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2015
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