Depths

I'm not sure if you'd call this a poem or what but it is...well, what it is.

Deep within the bowels of depression's inifinite abyss, sinking an inch for every breath, I whisper the only words I have left...I give.



Down I go, deep into the murk. I am consumed. I welcome the nothingness. Yet...in a mere blink, though I know not how, I am lifted far above.



Back on the same two feet that had failed me & will fail me again & again. But how many times can I return? Nothing is infinite nor promised.



Despite this knowledge of the threat that looms in the shadows, waiting until I am weak again, I am content that for now there is light.