Mentally Ill in the Dark of the Night

a piece of prose about dark brooding nights.

Its night time again
The time that I feel depressed
To the fullest extent
Of my ability
Not that I try to feel this way
Just that for some reason
When the darkness comes
I feel dark inside
And the urge to acquire
A hunting rifle and
Splatter brains on the wall
Becomes overwhelmingly strong
Yet I somehow survive the nights
This survival is likely linked
To the gallon Ziploc bag
Full of medication I take
Every day of my life