My Depression House

My depression is a house that I only have the key in, but not the key out.

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When I’m in my house, I’m not me.

I’m not the me anyone outside ever sees

I’m six or three, but, sometimes, in between.

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Even if I could leave, I’d never know how,

I need someone on the outside to guide me out.

But I know, no one is as patient as my house.

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My house lets me stay in bed and order in all day

My house lets me do anything, even play.

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I don’t like my house, but it’s always here

It holds me tight and wipes my tears

It waits for me, as long as I need

And I know it always loves me.

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