Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.

Apprehension clings like a leech
Forcing me to watch my words and actions
Im tirelessly stuck second guessing myself
"Will this be the straw that
Breaks the camels back?"
I miss when things were normal
But normal was lost overseas
Blind rage and helpless depression
All silently suffered

This mountain of ours
Stands viciously before me
I am always climbing
Never getting higher
My grip often slips
And I slide back down
Often I'll find tools
And with them I soar
Though these tools break
Putting me at square one again

This mountain of ours
Claims victims every day
Some hollow out a home
Refusing to climb higher
Others have fallen completely
And have lost their way
There is no easy path
To reach this apex
An eternal struggle
That you must never give up on

This mountain of ours
Some days are easier than others
But those days are few and far between
For this journey is a challenge
And not a single person has it easy
We're all struggling
Though some seem better off
Don't be envious because
You'll never know the difficulties
They faced on this mountain of ours

The steam it takes me
To reach each 6p.m.
Is unsustainable, exhaustingly so
With knicks and clotted flesh
Bruises aging brown
mix with, overlap the latest
Deep purples and ill hued blues
I am beaten by my own doing
Little to nothing is compensation
But the things i have touched
Broken made new again
From raw to finished, tangible
My hands, rough, scarred,
Talented and beat up
As is my body. Nightly.
By the end of the week i am a sight
Too tired to want morr from life.
Filthy and sore, single, alone
There has got to be more to life
Then the beast of burden i resemble
If not be the ending too soo
See i am beaten at the end
Tired...
Goodnight.

Your mind turns against you as every thought is amplified
Doubt grips at your ankles and drags you down
As that shadow cackles at your despair
This is the battle you've never prepared for
You claw against the deepning chasm
Hoping to find a notch to grab onto
But that notch always seems out of reach
The crippling feeling finally sets in
I am trapped