Depression

it feeds upon its’ own flesh

and bathes in its’ own blood.

Crippling the mind, the heart, and the soul.

In vanity it stares at its’ reflection

shone from the smooth side of a dull blade

All it sees is a dark abyss.

Devouring the light of goodness

suffocating our joys

slaughtering our loves.

Toasting on its’ own cup of poison

it eats and it eats

until all crumbles and cracks,

Finally then when it holds life and death

in its’ own hand

Does peace finally befall it.