A Window into my Depression

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My depression is a punishment to myself —

A grounding tantamount to childhood trauma.

It is laying down instead of standing up,

It is a bath instead of a shower,

It is a smile painted over frowns,

It is my dimly lit bedroom over sunny skies,

It is loneliness in a crowd,

It is food for sustenance and not for enjoyment,

It is no music at all,

It is stillness over change,

It is purpose made inert,

It is my disposability made gargantuan,

It comes in waves and stays for weeks,

And then, without warning,

it vanishes.

But does so in a way to tell me:

“I’ll be back.”