The pen really is mightier than the sword. At least, it is for me. But when I was young, before I had learned my letters or read a word...it was music.
Another poem about that one word.
Depression is more like grief. It's a crushed feeling. A grinding into dust. A shattering. A grating apart like flour forced through a sifter. A parasitic tapeworm of the soul. A weight on my chest, so heavy I can hardly breathe, producing the panic of an asthma attack, as if I am about to die.