Art · Depression · photography · Poetry

His Name was Depression – by Jennifer Nichole Wells

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At night he crept
and only at night
he moved in the shadows
in the dreams of the young

You could never see him straight away,
but you knew he was there.
He was a force that was felt in every fiber of your being.

It starts with an itch,
just out of reach,
then an ache that moves through your limbs and into your core.
A slight cramp in your stomach,
just a touch unsettling,
then a crack in your heart
like the dull ache of remembering.

You forget what you were before he arrived.
And because of this it doesn’t matter.
You are now him
and he you.
Creeping at night
and only at night.

© Jennifer Nichole Wells 2016


See Jennifer’s previous contribution:

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3 thoughts on “His Name was Depression – by Jennifer Nichole Wells

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