BOMBASTIC DEPRESSION


 Bombastic Depression

Pressed down, sunk deep, low spirit, gloomy and sad 
You are sick, they say. 
You are an explosive episode in my life 
I know how you live
When nothing interests me to do than to cry
When anger is more appealing to apply than to joy
When addiction is more pleasing than to reason
It could be You inflicting demonic afflictions
When coffee becomes more filling than food, 
I know you are suppressing my appetite for food. 

 I stand before the open fridge and gaze 
I cannot remember why I opened it but I gaze 
I guess you stool my memory away.  
In the dark of the night while others sleep, I stay awake
In the dawn of the morning, I am disoriented and fading
I laugh at my emptiness hiding my true feeling 
I nag and curse instead of gently speaking blessing 
I understand that you are paranoia. 
Doctor says it is mood swing, yes bipolar

 Double personality scares me. 
This explains why I want to be alone 
While my friends want us to hang out together
 I am restless instead of restful
No wonder, I choose to walk miles away from home 
Do you think about ending your life, the doctor asks 
Heck no, I love me. Why ask?
It can cause suicidal thoughts, he says 
Is it a terrorist? I asked

 I know depression, but it does not exist without me
You are the offspring of expectations and fear
You torment those who welcome fear
 You get in through negative permutations of situations
Hence forth, I give no room for permutations and assumptions
I shut the door for highs and lows of  expectations
I am determined to be strong and not be weak
I will tell everyone that, you are a suicide bomber
Your name is bombastic depression

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