I like to call my depression Gene Hunt.
He eats away at me and is a massive ****.
He knocks me down and builds me up,
Keeps **** off the streets,
But keeps them locked up inside my mind.
He loves and he hates me,
One in the same-
He’s one of a kind.

I wonder how much happier I’d be
If I believed in God and
If it would make a difference at all.
I wasn’t sure whether to make that last line a question or a statement,
I’m still unsure as I read this.

Where was God when I needed it?
Hunt is the closest thing I’ve got and he’s always
Flirting with bonnier women.
Shooting me down
Before I even get a chance to introduce myself-
My expectations are laid to rest
Six feet below the ground.

I can’t stand his constant shouting and musing but I’m
Terrified I’ll wake up one day and
He’ll be gone.  

I feel so numb yet so hurt simultaneously-
I guess this is what you’d call purgatory?