Depression

                       

                           Depression     

A numbing spell was cast upon my mind
Which pricks and rots
About this rigid space.
And here,
it stays and grieves to death
A twitch in the eye or
a quiver in my finger
Is now...so deeply felt!

 I can write a better poem,
For, I'm not so dull..you know
But perhaps not now..
For now, has never been a good time...

I rest here in a glass ball,
Like an obscure little doll with a contorted face.
It might snow,
or rain glitters here,
And..I'll turn and spin around
to the strains of music 
Spun by my inert mind.

 It's not an act dear mother,
The spinning wears me off,
I want to break free out of here, 
Rest my face in your lap and reflect the warmth
In your tender,loving eyes...

And you should let me cry,
"Hush..hush..." you should say as you put me to sleep
And in my dreams I'll put together the fragments,
The broken fragments of what I used to address as 'me'...