it's a dizzying impression to see one's own depression
no class or task or master can us for that prepare
that contradictive dissonance, that roguish thought of insolence
rejecting solemn peace of mind and peeling psyche bare
nerves, synapses, signals sent? what **, depression, whence!?
it's to me no mystery, a consequence of sense
a side effect of our accursed proclivity to care
better, then, to not, and give to death concession
the tragedy, the folly, the angst, our depression