Echoes
Of words left unsaid...

Let it go…
My mind softly whispers to itself...

I've found,
That pinot grigio...

The subtle difference between,
Myself still loving you...

Manic,
Manic episodes...

There’s a marionette inside my heart,
Tangled into knotted string...

Depression is quiet.
It enters in, through the night...

Somewhere in the distance,
Upon this dark and unforgiving night...

A soft broken whisper,
Too fragile for ears...

I try not to open my eyes,
Because the thought of everything is too hard to...

My depression has no face,
But, it has a name...

You still linger,
Right between the shadows of the folding moon...