This Is My Depression.

The road went on past me, ahead is another winding bend and I cared not of what I’d see or hear. The directions were unclear, finding myself floating in space while at seat, holding on a clear sanity to stay still and focus. I would swerve, go to left and head right, pull back or move forward as if dissatisfied for what lies before me but a blank tarred slate of flat pavement.

There was a pause, amidst the clamor inside my thoughts, I beg not to dissipate into pieces, and the music in the background went on playing unnerved of its listener whether he listens or not, whether he understands every lyric or by staying there he could break down any moment. A dull moment not wanted by him and a scarred circumstance bearing down to whom that beholds it.

He was at still, he was whole from the outside but deep within him he was in pieces, hurtful shards too painful to keep lest a smile only can hide but never almost actually heal.