How, sometimes, I wish you’d go away.
Go away from my head and wander away from me.
I would not have to think the thoughts that you send to me.
I could be blissfully ignorant for a time until you return.
Oh, the joy, Brain, that would bring to me.
Oh, the joy I would experience, not the cloudy gloom that you bring.
Depression and you have been conspiring together again
And I am the one who suffers.
Why, Brain, must I suffer because of thee?
Depression pulls at me until I finally snap allowing a hole, however small, to pull the anxiety, the fear, the pain from the recesses of my mind to come and play.
They are not toys, not playthings; they hurt me so.
Why must they come out to play with you, Brain?
They seem shiner and new because you forgot them when they were put away.
Depression lies to you, Brain; it says it is ok.
When will we learn to seee through the lies?