Free verse poem on how one person deals with depression. |
The black dog is waiting, Waiting outside my door To lead me down dark Corridors of my mind Past stations in the wall; Rope, razor, pill and gun. Black velvet shrouds drape Pressing walls, enclosing; lulling Me like a Nick Drake song. Glass obsidian floors cover Unfathomable twisting rivers of Dark thoughts, glimmering through The faint defenses I have cobbled. He takes me down un-cheerful. Leaden purpose darks out the Light. Pulls the covers over, Willing me to sleep and dream Foreboding ways to end the pain. To stop at stations in the wall and Choose respite from it all. I used to fear the visits; tried Everything to bar the door. All the frenzy, all the fear, Empowered him to enter and Lead me down dark corridors, Past stations in the wall, Rope, razor, pill and gun. Alas, I no longer fear him. He cannot tie the knot or Slice the vein, drug me to oblivion, Put gun to head, without my hand. He will get bored and disappear... Knowing this and not to fear the Bite, has tamed his power over me. He will be waiting, always waiting For me to let him in and like an old Familiar friend, he will walk me Down dark corridors again, still Stopping at the stations, knowing I no longer consider these choices as Salvation. He will leave me to the light. |