If my depression was a person, what would they be like?

If my depression was a person,

they would be lying in bed,

staring at the wall,

whispering for me

to stay a little longer-

convincing me that

other things can wait-

that this bed,

this silence,

these mountains of blankets,

this isolation,

is all I really need.

It would loosely hold my hand

As I stood at the bedside,

And with pleading eyes,

Ask me again and again

To stay-

It would sound so comforting,

So reassuring,

Like a lullaby I’d heard long ago

But forgotten.

And if I tried to walk away

Its grip would tighten,

Its eyes would harden,

And steel would paint

The edges of its words

“Stay.”

And if I listened,

I would crawl back in bed,

And it would curl around me

At first comforting

Before I realized

Too late

That it was smothering me,

And I’d be trapped

Until I found the strength

To stand and walk away,

But it’s whisper would linger in my ears

Wherever I went.

So today, I’m going to leave depression

In bed,

And block the whispers

From my head,

And choose life-

My life-

Instead of that lie.