It’s coming, it is coming
There is a creature, I can sense it, I can feel it
It’s dark, its shape undefined
It’s claws rip at my breast, they chew on every sinew
Its wicked, red eyes pierce into my very soul
It’s cold, it draws every atom of happiness from my very being
I dare not look at it, I cannot look at it,
No, I cannot. For it is inside of me now
There is no escape, perhaps there has never been
I cannot even name it, it terrifies me so
But I must. I name thee depression, to whom I may still succumb.
Have you done any of these?