You Asked Me

I wrote this poem back on the eighth of september last year about my depression and how it feels.

You asked me how depression felt

And this is all I could come up with. 

It feels like I'm walking

            upstream

through a current strong enough

to pull me under four times over.

There are others with me

but they are walking along the banks

telling me to "Just get out of the water"

But instead of lending a hand in help

they just move on and leave me behind.

Every once in a while, I find a rock...

that is strong enough for me to lean on

    And I can rest on it for a moment. 

But the rock always gets tired of holding me up

and when they let go, I'm left drowning

    thrown fifty feet back again. 

And nothing is harder

then standing up in that current

when everything in you

is telling you how much easier things would be

if you jsut let yourself get draggged under.