If I disappeared;
just gave up,
would a sole notice
my life had stopped?

Maybe entangled,
they would stay;
their eyes locked,
keys thrown away.

Would they remember the loneliness
that possessed my being,
or would they remember the lies
I allowed them to believe?

Always feeling
this colicky
infant--it is
grasping to me
Days seem to be
never ending;
The screaming is
never relenting
It seems that it
never quiets,
telling me I
cannot fight it
It always wants
my attention;
Carrying it
causes tension
And day by day,
it grows and grows;
the increasing
weight never slows
The weight I must
hold seems too much
Some days I want
to just give up
I keep going;
hope for the best,
praying that soon
the infant rests
The others say
this cannot last;
repeating that
this too shall pass
Their infants have
all cried and cried
Soon enough
the cries subside
So they advise
to build a bridge,
pick myself up
get over it
But, alas, no!
Mine won't lessen--
my infant's name
is depression.