It started the day before yesterday,
Which isn't 2 days ago,
Maybe two years ago,
The dates I can't really place.

Slowly, for some reason I can't remember,
I tripped and fell into the cold arms of depression.
If there was anything I would have wanted to fall for, not you Satan.

That night,
I couldn't breathe, my chest heavy, my eyes wouldn't open,
I knew I was fighting to be free but it wasn't working,
I couldn't scream, couldn't breathe, couldn't wake up.

My therapist called it, sleep paralysis.
The helplessness I felt,
I had a stirring contest with the devil,
It was death I saw.
But even as I battled with my life, even as I battled to keep my head above water,
The devil that threatened my existence has a pretty name "sleep paralysis"

Not the voices in my head again,
Not the loneliness, again.
I'm fine, I tell myself,
Its a phase, I assure myself

But how the hell do I keep all this caged inside,
How the hell will I quench the burning furnace,
Just like in the case of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.
Anybody who comes close gets burned,
How the hell do I let these idols go,
How the hell do I see the light.
How the hell do I heal.

Healing, now just a figure of speech,
Even the figures I speak aren't enough to give me the healing I so desire,
Assuming the figures I can acquire.

I want to sit in a room alone and not feel like I'm in a crowd where I'm the center of attraction,
I want to have the silence that truly is silent,
I want the nightmares to go,
I want the whispers to stop,
I want the depression to go.

If I'm allowed to choose between this crazy noise and permanent silence,
Tell my mum I'll prefer to lay on my side in my golden casket,
Because they say, it's easier for darkness to haunt you when you lay on your back.
And to be honest, I'm done with all that sh**© debbieOthompson
#nigerianwriter #nigeria #pain