I can feel myself slipping.

To familiar that’s for sure.

As if I was on a cliff

Resting peacefully on it

But I slipped and then I fell

Now I’m trying to hold on

On to happiness and health

But depression is ruthless

Took a break for a short while

Thought I was out of the woods

Now it’s hungry for some more

Just act happy all the time

Even if I want to cry

Can I clime up of the cliff

Before the roots grow too deep?

My poems will be better

Or maybe just more violent

To express my sinking heart

I don’t think I’ll clime back up

Before it pulls me back down

Im loosing my grip right now