I am about to go down again,
like the creaking old elevator                            into
                                                                ­               the
                                                                ­               basement.

I know it
because I see it                    in my eyes                      gone dull.
In my lips drawn tight                    instead of                        smile         it was there for a while.
                                                          ­                       my usual

For a time         it felt nice           to feel nice.
For a while                                                            ­ I was happy.

I know this feeling
like I know myself                        because this is me

                                                             ­         depression.