The Depression Ritual

Condemned to grief; I pass the sentence
A longing need, to bludgeon my ego senseless
Not one vein spared, not one source of life
This wasting me - the figure I envisaged

In this depression
The shatterd mirros of reflection
Carve out my grisly objective
The scarred, bleeding, wretched, infected
The new me

Epiphanies, grim new ways of self torture
The energy, a devotion to a lesser being
And I still live to fight another day
And still I stand only to topple again

A vivid complexity of reason marks the lines
But in a world devoid of sinners I'm still no saint

Scream at the face of my own self-hate
Depression ritual, the temple falls down

In this depression
I'm a victim of my own mind
In this depression