Toy Soldier

Depression is a battle,

so surely does it seem,

to fill my waking moments

and swallow whole my dreams.

With thoughts as dry as tinder,

my soul awaits the spark,

in subtle hope of freedom

from the ever present dark.

Yet often must I wonder

could it ever be?

When the world is fighting

for everyone but me?

Depression is a battle,

with enemies galore,

regardless of tomorrow

I’ll wage my silent war.