Depression is this little man.
That sits on my shoulder.
And has the weight of boulder.
All day he remains perched.
Whispering lies into my ears.
Degrading and shameful thoughts.
He tells me that I am nothing.
I am worthless, he says.
And as the day progresses,
So does his weight.
Overbearing, almost crushing me.
He pushes me into a dark corner.
And keeps me there,
Wallowing in self-pity.
But I am not fooled,
By his seeming invisibility.
I see him there,
And I know that he is the cause.
So I simply reach up,
Pick him up by the scruff,
Look into his scrawny, reddening face,
And laugh a hearty laugh.
And while he swings at me with his little arms,
I tell him how worthless he is.
That he is nothing.
Then I toss him aside.
And walk on with a spring in my step.
Leaving behind depression.
And embracing life.



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