Sadness seeps grey, mist filled
Onto each page, tear-stained, ink quilled
Until all the sad words I know or have learned
Are transferred from heart to paper. Almost spurned
By tears that cannot be cried. Instead they well up in my eyes,
Painfully unshed,cursed by ill-will and lies.
So I allow my cat to curl up, comfortably on my lap.
His melodic purr as I stroke him, breaches an engulfing gap
Between a reason to live and the taboo of suicide.
Depression’s companion, he’s out on the edge; likes to hide,
But you know he’s there present, in your here and now!
A sort of grim reaper, following the rusty old plough.
But as long as I can identify a reason to live.
He has to walk on by and my mind like a sieve;
Has to stop the water from dripping through.
Me? Use the suicide word, did I? I really did!
Sieving dripping water will I ever be rid of Depression?
©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015
Note: I found this picture on Pinterest but do not know the cópyright. If you do please let me know and I will attribute it. Thank you.