Subtle Pit

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.