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There finds an angry hand its way across my neck
That presses down my final breath without regret
And in what seems like compassion, it lets me breathe
But only long enough that I continue through this agony

So I wonder, from what force does this come?
For if it were darkness, my light would force it to run
And if it were fire, my tears would drown its heat to none
And if it were stone, my heart would break it down
And if it was electricity, my mind would be its ground
But it is none of these things, and I cannot escape
The power it commands is much too great

So where do I go when there's nowhere to run
And how do I play when there's no time for fun
And how can I continue to love
With my only experience this tight bitter glove
My prayers set out through silent screams,
Hoping but only to finally see
That day that the glove ends up crushing me
Yet a part of me still wants to believe
That with enough hope this glove will let go and leave
But I dread to fathom what would be left of me.


This is a poem about the struggles of depression.

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