Some call it the black dog.
A big, black, shaggy haired dog,
That sits on your chest,
Pinning you down,
Until you can't breathe.
That's the usual analogy.
I don't see it as a dog.
More like a hole.
A bottomless pit,
Devoid of beauty,
Of life, of hope.
And though you're falling,
You travel nowhere.
No new doors are opened.
No oceans are crossed.
The horizon is dead.
Strangled.
You move like a slug.
You feel like a slug.
You arrive nowhere.
You learn nothing.
(When I fall in love though,
That's a bottomless hole too.
And everyday I fall a little more.
But who wouldn't want to fall,
Into beauty and hope?
Into life?)
A big, black, shaggy haired dog,
That sits on your chest,
Pinning you down,
Until you can't breathe.
That's the usual analogy.
I don't see it as a dog.
More like a hole.
A bottomless pit,
Devoid of beauty,
Of life, of hope.
And though you're falling,
You travel nowhere.
No new doors are opened.
No oceans are crossed.
The horizon is dead.
Strangled.
You move like a slug.
You feel like a slug.
You arrive nowhere.
You learn nothing.
(When I fall in love though,
That's a bottomless hole too.
And everyday I fall a little more.
But who wouldn't want to fall,
Into beauty and hope?
Into life?)
