A poem about Depression.
What is the worst? The worst of anything? How do you define the worst? Could this feeling be the worst?
A feeling of perpetual loneliness. Perpetual lust. Lust for love. Lust for attention. Lust for warmth. It’s perpetual. It’s devouring.
A devouring of never ending potential. It can subside in a moment of brevity. Then come back, full swing. A tether ball taking a piece of you with each trip around the pole.
What’s left? A glazed-eyed husk of a person. Left to go pick up the broken pieces.
Depression hits and haunts in different ways. Each person is given their own version of the worst. The worst feeling. The worst enemy. The worst demon. The worst depression.