Infantile

Always feeling

this colicky

infant--it is

grasping to me

Days seem to be

never ending;

The screaming is

never relenting

It seems that it

never quiets,

telling me I

cannot fight it

It always wants

my attention;

Carrying it

causes tension

And day by day,

it grows and grows;

the increasing

weight never slows

The weight I must

hold seems too much

Some days I want

to just give up

I keep going;

hope for the best,

praying that soon

the infant rests

The others say

this cannot last;

repeating that

this too shall pass

Their infants have

all cried and cried

Soon enough

the cries subside

So they advise

to build a bridge,

pick myself up

get over it

But, alas, no!

Mine won't lessen--

my infant's name

is depression.

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