I never liked the ocean,
But lately I've grown a taste.
To the way the salt water,
Runs down my face.
Into my mouth,
Taking saliva's place.

I've grown to appreciate the ocean,
Though I haven't seen in it years.
But I feel as if I'm near,
Every time,
**I ******* tears.

Gloom fills the room
Can't be swept under the rug
With the biggest *broom.

Today I don't care.
Melancholy fills the air.
My lungs need repair.

Not feeling myself.
    If depression equaled wealth.
   I'd be one rich man.