Depression

The killer's on the loose again, Bringing the rain within, Dragging his heels, through the thunder and lightening. With him he carries, The corpses of millions, All just a wisker, From daring to hope again. He's washing his hands, In our liquidised carcasses, Watching as fear And despair deconstructs each of us. His eyes black, Like endless Chasm, His weapon the weight, Of a thousand mistakes. He'll never discriminate, He just takes soul after soul, After soul after soul, And locks them up in this deep black hole. Have I the strength, To fight my way out of him, I think I'll just sit here... ...And hope he'll let me out again.