Depression's cold hearted grip will slowly tighten,
And strangle you  to the point of just past broken,
And keep you prisoner.
It will hold you captive for as long as it pleases,
For as long as you are not strong enough to break free,
And emerge; spreading your wings like a newly awaken butterfly.
Except you won't be new the day you emerge,
Your wings will be bruised and battered.
But over time, we will see,
They will regain their beauty and help you, once again, to fly free.