It's a wonderful thing, really
To be able to wake up
To be able to get up
To be able to do anything, actually.

Because when it hits you,
Yes, "It",
The dark entity forcing you
Down on your bed,
Its entire mouth, drowning you
As you try to breathe and stay afloat
All to no avail.

It never used to be like this.
It somehow,
managed,
To pull me deeper into the crevices.

And the worst thing is,
No matter how much you try to explain to people
How bad your situation is, trying so hard to float on that dark sea called your thoughts,
They'll simply dismiss it.

But what if
I hadn't called
For help
At all?