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.

Quiet
I'm laying in bed
Trying to sleep

No

Trying to find the silence that my mind won't grant me
Trying to find the peace of mind that will let me close me eyes
Trying to stop thinking
     All the terrible things I just love to think about

I can't
For my mind hates me
It tries to destroy me on a daily basis

I have no control over the thoughts that run by
The theories that develop
Or the horrors that I can't seem to forget

My mind tells me I am doomed for eternity
****** to hell for the things I've done

Although my mind isn't convinced that there is a god
Not yet
We're still working on it

When I try to tell myself that
Everything is going to be OK
My mind laughs
And begins to brainstorm

The storm is an uncontrollable
Thrashing of terror
Of nightmares and scared

My mind never stops the torment
Never ceases to amaze
Never stops to think about me

Me

I'm back in the dark again
My mind flashes back to where I am
I can't seem to figure out what I am supposed to be doing

Nothing new

My mind can be distraction sometimes

i keep nothing in my pockets

that i occasionally pull out

when i find i have nothing

on which to talk about

i don't have to go searching

when looking for nothing

just slip a hand into my pants

and pull out something that is nothing

but still when you have nothing

you find you must do something

you can't just let nothing like nothing sit

because when you have something

that is more often nothing

in your pocket stuffing

you find there's nothing to it

It was an arbitrary day
at the arboretum
the ferns were all wondering why
a rash of rogue rhododendrons
were roughing up the azaleas
while mighty magnolias stood meekly by

A patch of tiny cyclamen giggled girlishly
while witch hazels waved green wands
and the willows wrung their hands
and wept and wept
'cause they knew what was really going on