Deprimere

Battling depression.
Hand in hand,
My past and I.
Fighting to open tired eyes
To another day.
Because, sometimes this bed
Is the only one that understands
How to console and comfort,
To hide and defend,
Against what every sunrise has given me.
Bland repetition of hope and
Spoon-fed courage
To brave it all away.

Fighting to open tired eyes
To yet another day.