depression….the iron collar.

I have been fitted for a collar of iron,

A chain forged to it

That runs to my soul—

and clenches it’s

Iron grip around my spirit.

It can only take a word,

Or even an assumption,

That I’ve done something to offend

Or worse, failed, at something or failed someone

For that collar to grasp my neck

And choke my life’s energies

To nothing but a trickle.

It grows, you see.

This collar does not stay the same size.

As time goes on and my mind

continues its’ spiral of blame

And guilt,

It grows and grows and grows…

It’s chain twists inside me

And guts my soul until

I cannot move or rise from bed…

I am immobile—

Blaming myself for the sins I have wrought

Shedding tears of blood and shame

The collar grows until it covers my mouth,

and smothers me lifeless…

I cannot speak or breathe

Or do anything

But silently SCREAM

Behind its’ massive iron band.

It grows still,

until my life is covered, body and soul…

and the darkness around me becomes

my only friend

dwelling beside me in this self-imposed isolation.

I lay there in silence.

Waiting for my sentence to end

And the collar to once again recede….

Until the clouds roll in again.