Depression, in Three Acts

Prologue

That’s… it

I’ve been betrayed

The curtain hasn’t risen yet

The lights have not yet dimmed

The crowd has not hushed in anticipation

I am alone

Before the beginning, already wishing to rewind

Line?

Please, someone, line

Tell me what to say, how to feel, how to react

My love has been betrayed most by one

And the first act hasn’t even begun

Act 1: Scene X

A cage of glass I find myself in

Fight I do not and flight I cannot

So within myself I trickily knot

The boiling lava inside me

Searing my tongue and melting my teeth

I push it down into the blackness new

The blood simmering now to stew

And brew a concoction of temperament so vile

I stray not from the glass’s edge

Outside warped wings of sparrows glide

Little of how I know to fly

No time for a lesson, I

Take light to the sky and Icarus entombed I lie

Act 2: Scene Y

I don’t think I found the bottom of this place, but I know it’s dark depths well

I believe it goes much further, and I fear there are those who have seen the bedrock

And I wonder if I am close.

Cold rapid waters aswirling

Knives sharp peach atwirling

Pills blue plenty aspilling

Watcher in the Sky, so many ways to die

I contemplate them

Pick them like daisy petals

Love me love me not

i dont love me

i hate me

no im too tired i think

to even contemplate the brink

goodnight sleep tight

let the bed bugs bite

i dont want to wake up tomorrow.

Act 3: Scene A

I haven’t found the Z.

The definite end to me, not yet—

not yet.

But the glass cage is gone.

The anger is still alive and well, even if its denoument is in the works.

I am no saint.

I am no artist.

I struggle with my demons without golden ideas, simmering on fresh pages.

I wrestle them with pills and stolen bandages, with hollow eyes and heavy weight.

I am no warrior.

Hardly a survivor.

My thoughts are still locked tight, creaking under the bottle-pop pressure.

I take a deep breath.

It’s time to let myself out.

To forgive myself for the delay in life.

To love myself

On the winding path to the unknown.