Fog, by Eric Smith

Depression starts as fog. 
He penetrates your pores, 
Deadens your synaptic sparks, 
Pulls your flesh into a frown 
As heavy as your most destructive sins.

Unchecked, he poisons your morning 
Coffee, leaving nothing for the 
Start of the day but doughnut holes, 
Sighs from the diaphragm, and eyes 
Bleary from his insidious smoke.

Act now before he steals 
Your will, or this sonofabitch 
Will handcuff you to the bed, 
Have his way and leave you 
Shaking, terrified, helpless.

Act now, throw him off. 
Use your power to sap 
His strength (your weakness). 
Yes, your power to change 
The circumstance that gives 
Him life.