I dig a pit for myself
Morning by morning
Straight from my bed
Jaw in palm,
I excavate, I ditch
Shovels of thought,
hands of comparison.
I am not good enough,
All else is better than me.
I'm better off dead than alive,
Just maybe I should end it all.
Little by little, my stand gives way
As I begin to fall, into by own pit.
Until a sudden awakening,
To the goods in me,
To the hopes I see
Then I scream out loud
As I hold on
And press on
Fleeing depression.