‘It’s Getting Bad Again’: a Poem

I understood it was getting bad again when my bones felt too heavy to stand.

Why doesn’t anyone understand?

I understood it was getting bad again when my bed felt more like a tomb than a place to rest.

Why can’t I be more than depressed? 

I understood it was getting bad again when the food in my fridge constantly rotted.

Why does my head feel haunted?

I understood it was getting bad again when the fog came back.

Why can’t I complete a single fucking task?

I understood it was getting bad again when I was no longer a go-getter.

Why is it so hard to get better?

I understood it was getting bad again when I had no energy left for tears. 

Why does everything feel so insincere?

I understood it was getting bad again when I couldn’t even fake a smile. 

Why am I so uninspired?

I understood it was getting bad again when I couldn’t look my friends in the face.

Why doesn’t life have a backspace? 

Is this all that’s left?

I know it’s getting bad again. 

It’s watching a fire,

knowing I lit it. 

When will it get good again?