As I lay in bed
I cannot ignore the weight of dread
for the months ahead
I practice being in the moment instead
Yet… it will not get out of my head
Spring is a time of life
For me,
it is strife
I question if I’d be better off dead
“Depression”
The doctor has said
Is that why I see red?
These thoughts lead up to
moments in time
A past I cannot rewind
A life I’d rather leave behind
Sobriety I celebrate
Myself, I berate
My depression
never late
Always waiting and ready to turn off the lights
I do not look forward to April nights
Exhausted from this fight
I haven’t the might
Clinging tight to my flag of white
When does this cycle take flight?
As my grip slips
my serration dips
The taste sadness upon my lips
Dare I call it death’s kiss
Perhaps it is me
it will miss