Depression Poem by E M Krumholtz

A blindness to what is
Despair, like a heavy, drab sweater
Smothers, encloses, stultifies.
Same thoughts, same thoughts
A slog, uphill through sticky, humid air.
Why is that small circle of sunlight so far away, so far
Receding, telescoping like a dramatic effect
From the Twilight Zone
Spinning and drawing hopelessness into its vortex.
Indecision comes here to feed
Slurping on inadequacies
Gorging on ugly
Sucking out impetus and impulse
Relive each grievance
Relive each slice, each cut
Re-die