I am infectious

When depression takes a hold.

My bed is my enemy, yet a trusted friend.
It wraps me up in vines and never lets me leave,
Tighter and tighter until I can't breathe,
My thoughts wander, darker and darker,
The voices get louder and louder:
- "You'll never be good enough"
- "You'll never be worthy"
I protect those around me from my lurgy.
And say, "Hey! I'm doing ok"
Truth be told, I am infectious.
My mind a virus.
And my body in a terrible crisis.
Tears fall. My mood intolerable.
Please, no-one come near me
Please, I just want to be free
of the anguish and pain
inside this diseased brain of mine.