A shallow grave filled with wasted compliments,

drowning slowly in wave after wave of “pick me ups”.

Toss a coin and send me on my way,

begging time for another re-do, a way to un-ring the bell,

watch my hope sink to the bottom of a moldy wishing well.

Depression looms like the moon on a cloudy night,

visible, yet subdued, reminding us of our plight.

Knocking once, a temptress to make sure that you’re alone,

there’s force behind the kick applied to the door of the home.

Now it’s here. It’s in. A permanent resting place,

foolish enough to believe each smile plastered to our face.

Bury the hatchet, try to lock the door as it convinces you to unlatch it.

You’re me now. An identity set in stone that makes us no longer who we used to be.

There’s a place for you to pace, but it exists over there,

smile fading, face changing, “I like living in the head underneath your hair.”

The bonus of insomnia is that the nightmares stay at bay,

close your eyes, empty into forever, living in unhappy can’t be the only way.

I pick apart rust from the thoughts formed in this vat of mine,

A decision eats away agony, keeping my  positivity in line.