It is back – it is back:

That heavy, Heavy Black.

That feeling that Hangs, everywhere.

That lifeless Black Heavy in the air.

Like barren days preceding rain,

Gray-cloud Apathy masking Pain.

Oh, yes, Those Days –

You know the kind –

Seeking something you just can’t find.

You try to Try but the Heavy wins out.

Smashing your tiny, pathetic ‘try’ all about.

So you stop the fight, you put down the try.

People, they judge you, they can’t figure out why.

They whisper and snarl, say, “Depression’s not Real.”

This coming from people who never learned how to feel.

Not deep down in their souls in the Dark Birthing Black

Where the pains create life and the joy cycles back.

Oh yes, that part we forget when we’re stuck in the bog,

When that Nothing feeling hangs thick as the fog –

That if we can Hold On and just get through the black

We might say,

“The joy! The Joy…

It is back.”