Too Far from Home to Run

Too far from home to run.

This Depression has me crippled.

I can't move.

Like a lucid dream; one from which I never awaken.

My hands are tied.

My knees are crushed.

My legs are broken.

Too far from home to run.

Screaming in a room full of strangers.

No one hears me.

No one wants to anymore.

Same cries for help.

I can't pull myself up and out.

Not by myself anymore.

I'm too weak to even try.

I watch them walk away.

Disgusted.

Blemished.

I watch them run.

I can't move my legs.

Too far from home to run.

This Depression makes me want to sleep.

And I do.

Days pass.

Hours pass.

Minutes of my lingering past suffocate me.

I don't know if I am breathing.

I don't know if I am alive.

I've fallen into the depths of this remarkable darkness that leaves me paralyzed.

If I am still me.

I don't recognize my reflection.

I don't recognize anything around me.

That surrounds me.

That takes my air.

Breathes my breath.

Too far from home to run.

I used to think I looked like my mother.

Resembled my brother.

Was my father's daughter.

What did I learn all this for?

What good are these skills as I'm lying on the floor?

Time seems irrelevant and simply marked by climate.

My life has been quartered.

My life is but a season.

Change seems imminent, but never shows its face.

Necessary, but a stranger to my space.

Alone with darkness holding my hand.

Darkness holding my head when it rolls.

Darkness lifting me up when I have fallen from grace.

This Depression has crippled me.

Has robbed me of my goodness.

Stolen the last of my youth, never to return what's been borrowed.

Only to laugh at my paralysis and dance around my weakness.

To ignore my screams.

I watch everyone turn their heads.

Choosing to ignore my gasps for air.

My stretched out arms reaching for their help.

Growing callous in the wind from the sands of time.

Becoming hollow.

Hard.

Empty.

I lay alone.

This Depression grabs me by my throat ordering me to surrender.

To give up what's left.

To give in.

To close my eyes one last time.

From the depths of my living hell I find no return.

No way home.

Too far from home to run.

Considering to let this beast simply overcome.

To fade fast from glory.

To have my final run.

To take the main stage in my drama of one.

But I fear no one will come.

I remember exactly where I came from.

I remember what this Depression allows me to.

What this Depression gives to me.

Giving me nothing upon the nothing I already reveled in.

What has become of me?

What resemblance of me is left to offer?

Who gave this beast that goes by the name Depression the upper hand?

Allowed him full disclosure.

Allowed him insight to my midnight.

Depression has been given the reigns, full control.

Gate keeper, key master, director.

Instructor.

Master, the beast to whom I relinquish all control.

I am no longer me.

Now I become the nothing this Depression has made me to be.

Too far from home to run.