The Cycle

It’s a bubble that can’t be popped.

A feeling that can’t be dropped.

It’s a pain in my mind

But it can be hard to find.

It starts with a thought

Then you’re caught

With feelings of despair

And wondering who would care

If you decided to end it all.

Then, she’s there

Her face bare

Because you can’t remember

The details of her face exactly

And you feel worse

But it’s not the first.

It’s a dark hole

Filled with dirt and coal

You try to dig yourself out

But you’re stuck with doubt

And unable to move.

It’s an out of body experience

Looking down on yourself

But not being able to control what you do

But it’s peaceful

And that’s a miracle.

It’s waking up

And knowing you’re fucked

And having a panic attack

With the wall against your back

And calling her phone in the middle of the night

Hoping she’s alright

But “the number you have called is out of service-”.

It’s the world crashing down on you

As you realize she’s dead

Again

Like a never ending cycle.

He’s always there,

Depression.

He watches you

And just when you think he’s gone

And you think you’ll be fine,

he rears his head

And you welcome him

Like an old friend.