It is Dark

what depression feels like

It is dark
and the darkness
is complete.
The walls feel of brick
and rise above me.

“Where am I?” I cry.
“Where am I?” comes the
sneering echo.

Hot tears
fill my eyes
as I pound the walls.

Sitting
in the dark,
damp;
hopelessness
sits with me.

“I don’t want to
be here,”
I whisper to the dark.

“The Well of Despair
is not broken by wishes,”

and a small light

                  appears.