I’ve had this feeling, ongoing for a couple of years, or more
Like the relentless moped rider who mounts the pathway outside your door,
Risking his life without a helmet on,
And others may too soon be gone,
As though its his mission to break you down and irritate,
Mind and body debate, until my shell accepts defeat,


It’s easy to make excuses when you feel this way, they say,
But I beat myself up, day after day,
If I sleep too late or hide away, exhausted, unable to concentrate,
The guilt pulls in my gut, like the church-bell ringers tug, slow, robust,


Without question, prescription or doctors review,
I take the mind numbing pill just to get through,
There’s no need for appointments or long waiting queues,
It’s ready and waiting with the supermarket crew,
among other essential survival tools to accrue,


I’ve fought so hard to come off this drug,
I’ve reduced the dose, though it’s not enough,
I’m shamefully addicted, though the GP insists they’re not addictive,
If only I could have predicted,
Without my fix I’m resticted, spaced out, blurry eyed, inflicted,


Out of this darkness I see lots of light,
I’ve allowed myself time and space to get it right,
holistically and patiently, I’ve learned is key,
Though the shame of depression will never leave me,
It’s an unattractive weakness, but it wouldn’t stop my attraction to you,
It’s my own insecurities that I need to break through