The Mistress Of Depression
The subtle invite
Attracts one silently to the
Depths of poison.
Invitingly, enticingly this monstrosity
Swallows the isolated air left in gasping lungs;
Air that at one time supplied
The energies needed to oppose the subtle Mistress.
Now we stand breathless
Gasping for a single dropp of air
Struggling to keep moving forward.
The Mistress donates air as she wills,
Yet only enough breath to keep us
Dangling on a thin spiders web.
We spin, we toil, we stretch, trying threads,
Only hoping to break a grip of iron
Welded to our heart.
The struggle continues,
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