Living Depression

LIVING DEPRESSION

My bottle brings me comfort
  to ease the thoughts that stir my mind
They're not all good, they're not all bad;
  just the thinking kind. 

And then I'm trapped inside the walls,
  forever freedom lost.
The long dark halls reek strong of death
  for life has had a cost.

Tonight this life of mine is dead.
  It’s lonely, drunk and scared.
I suppose I should repeat the words
  of those who’ve said they cared.

But then abandoned, alone to see
  how long I could persist
Triumphant dreams slide passively
  unable to resist.

I feel so sorry for my self,
  but who else could do so well?
The practice comes quite often
  when I stroll along through hell.

No memory of happiness,
  tragic ghosts engulf my mind.
And when conquest fails to call,
  death sounds so very kind.