DEPRESSION
You take hold of the door handle,Just to open the door,
Yet you just can't turn the handle,
Wondering what you'll let in,
Or what you will lose,
You wander to the window, Peer around the corner,
Hiding at the edge of the curtains,
Trying not to be seen seeing nothing in return,
People see you looking just the same,
You stare into the mirror,
Trying to see who you are, Who you were,
Wondering where you went,
Blank eyes stare back at the expression,
One you don't and can't recognize,
Yet from somewhere deep inside you know it's you,
Your hiding somewhere far away,
If only you could find your way back...
Richard E. Cartledge PHOENIX (c)
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