NOTES ON DEPRESSION

  

From under it, you hate yourself, and with sound proof;

the worthless deeds you've done

with nothing noble born;

Memories repay you, like vengeful souvenirs.

Like tormenting darts, the past attacks

and your guts are torn;

They find and spear you on your lonely roof,

away from everyone.

--C. S. Cholas

11 October 1983