Shackle and Fetter

Since 23rd March I have felt hemmed in

I feel like I’m being punished, but what is my sin?

I close all my windows, my doors and I hide

Switch off the tv and contemplate suicide

I crawl nearer and nearer to the black, black abyss

I am convinced in there I will find peace and bliss

Friends are worried, they contact me every day

They tell me they love me and that for me they will pray

But I remain indoors, eating rubbish, getting fatter

Coming to the realisation that my life does not matter

So, should I jump, take that life ending leap

For Surely this depression, I do not want to keep

Surely when dead it will not be the same

depression will be gone, no more mental pain

But there is no guarantee that life on the other side

Will free you from the thought that the answer is suicide

So that leaves me with a quandry, a catch 22

Death is not the answer, I do not know what to do

This makes me angry, I want to scream I want to shout

But somethig holds me back: I cannot let it out

I want to run, run away faster and faster

depression stops me, depression is my master

It is my manicle, it is also my fetter

I am a slave to depression: it stops me getting better

There is a way out: it is called therapy

But is is oh so hard, talking so much about me

My therapist tells me not to worry, we will work at your pace

Together we will win, but slowly, you are not in a race

My friends you must realise March 23rd is not the cause

For 45 years my life has been on pause

The details of my past you do not need to know

But forward into therapy, I am impelled to go

I am scared I can tell you, everything feels tight

but at least I can see the tiniest pinprick of light

So, hand in hand with my therapist, I walk to the light

Fast in the knowledge we will win every fight

She will release my hand at some future time

Then at last, my life will once again be mine

I will no longer be tied by that shackle and fetter

I will be whole, depression gone and I will be better