A War of One

This is meant to be a comment on the seeming impossibility of overcoming depression

The face I see which watches me

Each morning when I rise

Confronts me for my actions,

Asking why I even try.

The pallid face, unknown to sun,

The dry and drooping smile - 

They say to go lay down again,

To lock myself inside.

The only war I’ll ever fight,

I battle with my eyes - 

Whose sorrow ever weighs me down,

And keeps me here confined.