When Depression took control,

Its first mate Anxiety at its right hand,

Nothing could be done.

 

Years had spun by,

Logic as my guide,

Emotion an alien concept.

 

How could I fight my new antagonists,

The villains to my heroine,

When I didn't have the weaponry?

 

How could I identify them,

Their backstories,

When I had no clue where their roots lay?

 

Trying to fight a losing battle,

Using every bit of logic I had,

I shoved at my monsters with all my might.

 

Useless.

 

Stuck on my knees,

Trying to hold myself up,

I was ready to quit.

 

Never a heroine,

Not me.

I was weak.

 

As they moved to deal their final blow,

As I prepared my last breath,

A guiding light appeared.

 

Words flowed from me,

A medley of analogies and metaphors,

Streaming into line.

 

As every line formed,

As stanzas crushed together,

I felt myself grow more powerful.

 

I could beat my monsters,

Destroy my demons,

Annihilate my antagonists.

 

Armed with poetry,

I knew in my heart,

I could do anything.