Depression
By: Joy Ortiz
I have a disease which has roots in my brain.
It strangles my heart and my mind.
When I attempt it, I still can't explain.
The answers are too hard to find.
My spirit is sagging; my body is weak.
I'm fatigued; I'm bedraggled and low.
I sound like I'm stupid whenever I speak.
I'm feeble and random and slow.
At work all day long I shed tears at my desk.
Dark thoughts just won't leave me alone.
I finally get them all under control,
But then it is time to go home.
I pick up my daughter and drive to our house.
She brings me a measure of joy.
I long to feel better and ride this mess out.
I feel guilty, frustrated, annoyed.
My husband comes home like he does every day.
He kisses our daughter and me.
He helps with the dishes, then takes her to play
While I fix us something to eat.
He tells me about some new watch that he wants.
I try to pretend like I care.
I know he deserves my attention and love,
But sadly it just isn't there.
I go through the motions and stick to the script
Of a story without any pain,
Hanging onto the hope that someday I'll be free
From this illness with roots in my brain.
