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Depression
My liking for life has been stolen,
A thief came and took it away;
A visitor bent on destruction,
A burglar from hell, you might say.
I see via dark tunnel vision,
With the edges so dim and opaque;
My senses have been all but flattened,
My sanity now is at stake.
I see nothing good in the present,
My past is a far nicer place;
Of the future I may have been due to,
I see not a feasible trace.
The burden of living is heavy,
So heavy, and hauling me down;
A quagmire of dark contradictions,
Swamping my smile with a frown.
I decide to be done with this torment,
And make the decision alone;
I threaten the thief with eviction,
In the midst of my mind-battle-zone.
Almost robbed of all mental possessions,
I still know what's wrong and what's right;
The deceiver, in all of his glory,
I'll fight and I'll fight and I'll fight.
With the sword of the truth I then stick him,
With the shield of my reason, deflect
All his arrows of poisonous lying,
His falsehood and fear, I reject.
Now my liking for life is returning,
The enemy forced to retreat;
The hope in my heart, reappearing,
The thief? he lies dead at my feet.
Written June 1995
poem
by
John Carter Brown
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