Friday, January 30, 2015

Depression

She whispers in your ear that it's okay
That sinking back down is fine
The discomfort becomes a marinade
To soak in, to simmer, to lie
She wraps you in a cold blanket
Chills you until your body aches
Chills you to the point you think - 
Won't it be nice for a minute?
To bathe in warm tears and call it an illness?