Depression is like a fog,
a dense billowing log that creeps out of nowhere,
seeming to spring up from the ground itself.
The trees and bushes slowly merge into it
and then become swallowed up by it.
Depression is like a fog:
it becomes a barrier
cutting off all inputs of light and song.
Day, night, all become merged into a single monotone grey
with no hint of color or life.
Depression is like a fog:
it bounds my world until all I see and remember
is gray swirling mist.
When even hope and joy have become swallowed up
leaving only the dull ache of hopelessness
and the low moan of despair.
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