The black hole

Wrote this while inpatient at a psychiatric hospital, my thoughts on depression

When I think about my heart

I do not think of valentines and rosy cheeks and cartoon shapes

Nothing like the warm glow of flowers and rainbows 

portrayed on tv

I think of black holes.

No room for goodness or light or joy,

too dense for any sliver of hope

but it can still suck me in.

It can still suck me into its abyss of lonely hours

and pointless realities.

Its gravitational pull holds on to me like shackles

while the gravity keeps me grounded,

it grounds me in the dark. 

While I cannot see out,

I fear that others can see in.

That my skin is stretched too thin 

it becomes transparent

and everyone can see my empty and dark insides.

These shackles turn to shadows

the black demon of my depression

distracts with its tempting lies

and unstable, painful truths.

The gravity switches off

leaving me to my own mess;

but I stay grounded in the blackness

not having noticed that the shackles are gone

and I could float away at any moment.

The shadows linger, keeping my thoughts fuzzy

distracted in the worst way.

As I fight these demons away,

I notice where I am,

and a thought strikes me like a lightining bolt.

I’ve been trying to solve the black hole in my heart

When the true root is in my head.

and in that moment

with a second of clarity

I realize I’ve spent my whole life

fiddling with a complicated combination

only to discover I’ve been toying with the wrong lock.