bluebird

 
depression talks, it has a voice of its own
it is the voice of despair
dark and needy it clings to me
until I have no choice but to listen
 
soon I am wearing its clothes
the work uniform for the sad
defeated look in the eyes and all
in the listless way I walk and talk
 
it's a heaviness of being  
it talks to me
it has a dark voice
 
I struggle with it, wrestle with it even
until I am too tired to fight it anymore
and I can hold it down no longer
I have to let it out then or it will eat at me
cutting into my soul with its vileness  

I write to release my demons
there is no modern-day exorcist to free me
no pill on the market can touch it
 
the darkness is part of the world as we know it
I don't feed it...it feeds off me
still when it comes and it does come
I find myself seeking the creator
 
the dark might win the fight somedays
but I am winning the war  
every day it says die and I persist in the living