Depression Den

I pull myself into my dark Depression Den.

I rest and I lay, I think and then think again,

I sleep.

I punish myself for the things that have happened to me,

for what I could control and what I could not control.

I lay around waiting for whats to happen next, not caring about control anymore.

I lose touch with reality, my friends and my family.

I start to remember every foul thing anybody has ever done to me,

which makes it that much easier for me to keep pushing people away.

I can focus but, I can not.

My heart needs a heat lamp.

I am cold sad and wet, In my depression den

So, I must get out.