The Candle

Depression is nothing more than a blackened room

In the middle, a small candle, penetrates the gloom

But I'm on the far side, stuck in my bed

I can't move with all these demons screaming in my head

They tell me to do things and they tell me these lies

I know they're not real, but all I can do is cry

I'm sick of the pain and the numbness that kills

I'm tired of everyone not knowing how it truly feels

But if I stay right where I'm at any longer

I know for certain I'll be a goner

I slink off my bed and head towards the light

Who would've thought a little flame could shine so bright

I've reached the candle and now I can see what's in front of me

It's going to be a long hard road, but I'll fight until I'm free

Depression can't be won, however, but I still have to fight

I will be the leader for all of those facing my plight

Next time you're alone and all you see is gloom

Just remember that small, flickering candle in the middle of your room

This poem is about: 
Our world


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