For a friend, a pupil and a version of myself.

I’ve told you this once before,

Above the clatter of teacup and saucer,

Often depressive episodes reveal more,

As the road less travelled feels even coarser.


I know, adrenaline only pumps when you think of doing harm,

Knuckles white in anticipation,

Eyes wide, you imagine blood, a trickle down your arm,

Yet you save yourself, a heart treading in trepidation.


I know, the best company is you,

A tea party of ghosts and loneliness,

But what better time for getting to know, you?

Suddenly you realise there is more to this than just mess.


You see, feeling low,

Sends us on a war path,

We take our heart and hands in tow,

To find out what really makes us laugh.


You see, feeling low,

Forces us to live through torture,

To prove more than anyone it is you who becomes a foe,

As well as the all-seeing augur. 


I’ve told you this once before,

Over my crying into a mirror,

Depressive episodes reveal our core,

From the haze, you’ll see a bit clearer. 

 

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