Old Man Depression

This poem is about depression I speak of a man to put a face on a faceless disease.

Even at my lowest nothing left to give
You hold out your hand to take what I hid
How could he know? Stupid girl how could he not
He’s just a sick old man playing games in your brain
While we are left to slowly rot
He’s sick and twisted stirring the brain of the young
Filling them with lies and tears always thinkin He’s won
Someday most likely, No, of course not me
But someone will catch you, kill you, and then we’ll all be free
No more stolen smiles that I wanted to give to my kids
No more stolen love that I have soo much to give
Not one more single tear will I let you push down my cheek
No longer will I let your lies cripple my heart and make me weak