The hex of manic depression, being a meticulous and cunning foe
Casting illusionist gaslight minefields ready to blow
Feeling like you'll never have to come down
You never notice the assassin in stealth, void of all sound
The fall to the pits bottom, is long and malicious
The sights you see there, are to horrendous to be called visions
Drown in a cesspool of despair, that blankets the soul
Gasping toxic air, while friendly faces whisper forbidden knowledge you shouldn't know
The terror wheel keeps time like a dead clock
Never letting you desensitize, keeping you in shock
Part time optimist, leading to nihilism
A cycle of maddening events, leaving one to crave that doom finally kills them