Depression

Depression

Life slowly withers.
Weeks blur into months, years.
Endless, death barely avoided.

Exhaustion claims easily,
More than its due.
Dreams attract more than before
Slumber’s taste sweeter, too.

Once I thought it’s simply age.
A body grown weary by tasks.
Now I know, this beast consumes
Quietly, chewing my soul

Silently.

Carl Setzer

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