It’s been 217 days since he’s last seen the sun,
He awakens and wonders how the world looks today,
The familiar walk to his front door brings him no joy,
His house is unrecognizable to him now,
The only company he has now is himself,
The only voices he hears are his own,
He hates himself more and more,
He hates that this affects his family,
A wife, two kids; the pain they feel seeing him like this,
He opens his front door and walks to the end of his porch,
His house is surrounded by a forest of tall Redwoods,
He likes to think of them as bars to a jail cell,
Trapping him into the place where he stands,
He peers through the dense tree canopy, to learn if his nightmare would end,
“****,” he mumbles, as if someone could hear him,
There’s no one around, there’s nobody near him,
It’s been 217 days now since he’s last seen the sun,
Grey skies and fog, not the blue that once was,
Still, with no blue, he feels blue — can this be undone,
After all of this time, he’s lost his self-love,
The kids don’t really look at him the same since,
Though they still love him and he loves them,
They used to laugh together,
Now he hardly talks,
They used to dance together,
Now he hardly walks,
He hears shallow knocks, they’re quiet but loud,
A creak from the door will trigger more sound,
He sees his wife there, with concern in her eyes,
As she and the kids have to leave and say they’re goodbyes

- “Hey. I have to get the kids out of here until you’re better,” she says softly.
- “Please don’t leave,” he pleads.
- “This isn’t good for them. This isn’t good for any of us,” she explains.
- “I’m so sorry that this happened,” he says with a choked-up voice.
- “I know. Just get better,” she replies as her eyes begin to water.
- “I love you,” he tells her.
- She replies, “I love you too,” and slowly closes the door.

The pain he feels for the pain they feel just kills him inside,
Depression has stolen joy from his kids and his wife,
He screams as long as he can with no one to hear him,
Tears fall in masses, as he cries for his freedom,
He doesn’t deserve to fall victim like this,
He tries and he tries but can’t find a fix,
He’s lost himself, and it all happened so fast,
that he can’t seem to recall how it sounds when he laughs,
His energy, it seems, has just run empty again,
His eyes close to sleep, in hopes tomorrow’s the end,

He awakens and wonders how the world looks today,
It’s been 218 days since he’s last seen the sun.

Brendon S. Sawyer
2019