I'm not a victim

Try to understand, I know people have it worse, but this depression doesn’t tell me that, I believe I’m the only one with this curse.

It whispers in my ear, and tells me I can’t do it, and even with all my might, I just cant fight through it.

It pulls at my hair, and picks at my worst features, like the mean kids at lunch that judge from the bleachers.

It screams my name, in a hair raising growl, like the screech of an animal close to the end of a prowl. It pushes me over, and forces me into corners, slowly taking my life, turning my friends more into mourners.

I try to speak out, and get the help for my needs, but when I try to think positive, that’s when it feeds. It licks its lips, and stares me dead in the eye, and reminds me of why its best not to try.

It rips at my clothes, leaving me vulnerable and bare, and even with the lack of my garments, I’m too drained to care.

Some days, I lay and think of my best course of action, but if you haven’t already guess, it needs to be the main attraction.

I stare in the mirror, and pretend its not there, but this game I play with myself, it doesn’t find fair. It doesn’t want to be forgotten, a thing of the past, this deadly curse is here to last.

It won’t set me free, it doesn’t view me as a victim, and doesn’t agree with the way I depict it.

It has hold of my collar, and I'm pressed against a wall, and leaves me dangling there waiting for my final fall. 
                                            R.R.Keele