Ode to Depression

Dreaming of rain and pickpockets and 

bloody scalps, my own,

and you're still there, I know.

Maybe you can cross that bridge but it

turns to dust as soon as I even look at it.

So why is it important?

Your death will be my own, 

I'm larger than you in the evilest way.

Reviews

[Jake Donald Stephens]

Everybody's ode to depression is a little different. This seems a thoughtful one.

[scarlynn]

Very true. And thank you! :)