Fred Babbin - DEPRESSION

There is a rat
I call Depression
Inside me,
Eating at my innards.
The pain goes to my throat
So I am choking on my tears
My tears of blood.
Would that I could
Write of something else,
Would that I could.
And I am so very tired
If I could only end it all
Looking at words on the page
that reflect back to me
my misery.
And where am I?

Fred Babbin

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/depression-77/