We, The Depressed, In Our Darkest Hours Have
No Energy To Move
No Reason To Live
No Will To Survive
No Hope in A Cure
No Reason To Try.

We Roam The Earth As The Living Dead
Wanting Only To Extinguish
That Persistent Heart That Beats,
That Ceaseless Breath That Enters,
That Pain That Never Relents.
Every Cell Of Our Being Wants To Die,
Yet Do We Live.

I Still Have hope.