Depression and its infinite behaviors as if it were Satan himself!
Seeking to and fro claiming requisition of weak souls.
It is vile. Relentless to the very end.
In the end, it wins.
It taunts and toys with your emotions devouring them slowly until you are cut into.
You pore over life.
Don't. It doesn't matter now.
It has you and you are not who you once were.
A beautiful soul now desolate and panic-stricken.
The voices never cease.
You are powerless to their mockery
and yet, you lock yourself alone in a room with them.
Your asylum.
Shackled by fear you over medicate.
You sleep the sunlight away because all you know is darkness.
You become acquainted with the voices, accustomed to their infliction, &
tolerate the horrible pain you feel inside.

Now, forget the prose of the poem you just read and let me introduce you to some of my hell!

I spend my days battling this disease
they call bipolar depression.
It has exhausted me mentally and physically
leaving me subjected to its oppression

I live life with immense fear.
Thanatophobia; abnormal fear of death.
This has confined me to my home and I lay in waiting for my final breath.

I vowed death would not meet me
shedding one single tear
It will not feed off me any longer
I will go with dignity not by its fear

This desease is more than real
it's not just some psychobabble
My family lives in fear of me
and struggle with their own grapple

Scratch marks completely cover my body
from fighting off this vile intity
Clumps of my hair lay on the floor
as if I could pull out of my mind the voices that haunt me

A paperclip end works wonders
the cuts are not as deep
It blends in with the scratches
leaving no one questioning me

Extreme bouts of sadness
then horrifying rage
This is how I live my life
possession to depression day after day

© Brandi Campbell