Depression is heavy.
Bolder upon bolder on
My heart,
Soul,
Joy,
Soars, moans, scorns.
It is a tongue ripped in
Two.
A spine that cannot support.
It is useless, like most things.
Suicide hides behind it,
Waiting;
Those crooked teeth and all.
It is a lost childhood.
Lost in time.
Frozen, really.
It is not this or that.

Honestly, it is death in youth.
The death of youth.
It dances at fancy *****;
In sequence and secret:
It will only take your hand
In a dance that will not,
Cannot end.
Depression is all the
"I love you" letters burning
In hell.

It is you.