On what it is like to be depressed

I have a friend who suffers from serious depression.  I asked him what it was like for him.  He sent me this poem.  I thought I would reprint it here.




We all go to war each day

Each day a muddy confusion

Seeking solid ground

On which to stand

Against galing winds

That leave us huddled

And hanging on

Never clear where to

Or where from

Lost without story

Trying to hold the truth

That what was

Need not always be

And hanging on to the

Small hope of single moments

And praying for new melody

in the next day.




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