I feel the cold,
lifeless hands,
wrapped around my neck.
Is this death?
No, it doesn’t seem
Quite like his style.
Is this God trying to wake me up,
or the Devil trying to pull me in?
No, it can’t be, they know to knock.
The grip gets tighter,
And my air way is closing.
These hands are so cold.
Depression, is that you?
Coming to tango again?
So soon, you must know I’m still weak.
Gasping for air,
I try to fight with you.
Our arms tangled together.
Blood drips from my body,
And sweat drips from your brow.
On the floor they meet.
Struggling for one good breath,
Trying for one good hit,
But I lose.
Depression wins another battle,
Giving him the lead in this war we have.
I forfeit, give in. Take me I am yours.
Taking my last breath,
I close my eyes to see,
myself drowning in a pool of emptiness.
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