She sits as the onset rises
Welling up in her loins like a flood until it rolls down her eyes like the leaves of a willow
Memories invade with definitions at a loss
She scoffs at her outpour
No consolation to be had. No one to say “sorry”
No words could undo the damage but it will pass
For now.
{This is a poem dedicated to those who battle depression, like myself, and cannot always find the words to explain the experience as it is happening. It is often more complex than this. However, this is a depiction of my usual experience when I find myself on that slippery slope.}
