She surfaced, gasping for air
screaming and shouting until her throat seemed to bleed
But no one would listen, despite her obvious fear
They even overlooked her struggling to breathe.
She ached from pain and exhaustion
Her arms tired and her throat sore
But the crowd now gathered around her watched as if it were a show
They chanted with fists in the air, "More, more, more."
Her pain had become a morbid buffet
They chomped at her skin as if she were a gourmet meal
Each limb had had its turn and now she was tossed aside, only flesh and bone
It no longer seemed to bug her that these wounds would never heal.
The light inside of her had aready diminished
And now the fight was, too
Surely the monsters wearing flesh around her
Had to know they were cruel
She took another feeble breath
groping for someone, anyone's, hand
But as she surfaced again she realized she was not drowning at all
for she was on land
Depression is not an idea or a thing
It is a person, wearing your face and holding your name
And this person will abuse you over and over
But I fear it is not to make you any stronger.