My Depression sits in a empty vase

It spins and circles in an endless maze

I do not know where it emerged from

I only wish it would run its course and be done

My words and thoughts are different, and alien to me

I wish I could say what I mean, and be who I want to be

It affects my dreams, my hopes, and my voice

I can't sing any better, this isn't my choice

People analyze me, and criticize my words and thinking

they ask me if I'm suicidal, what are they drinking?

I may be sick and tired of this,

But I couldn't ever choose to leave the things I'd miss.

Never once has this crossed my mind

People still wonder, how can they be so blind.

I may get better, day by day,

I wait for my mind to agree with what they say

That night was so panic filled and fraught with death

My mind, body and soul fight back with every single breath.

My Depression sits in an empty vase,

ready to be filled with memories of the better days.