welcome friend, it's dark down here.

for most, it's much too grim

the table's set with plates half empty

the cups spill o'er their rims
 

I'm sorry I closed off

no, I've not seen her in a while

I stopped writing, scared to overshare

and it hurt too much to smile
 

I wish you'd never found me here.

brutal, much, but it's not fake

the grave that seems to beckon

with each defiant breath I
 

I hate how much I have to hide

but when they ask me how I am

it's not to know what's in my head;

“I’m doing well (just down again.)”