It's Coming

Here it comes I feel it
It's sneaking up on me
Slowly coming but sure enough
It's overtaking me quietly

Starts with a slight tremor
Then works up to an earthquake
Theres no way to stop it
I can't make myself not shake

Then comes the stinging
And the puddles behind my eyes
Slowly a tear rolls down my cheek
This thing, this monster, makes me cry

Now I'm at the poem stage
I write to try to save myself
To stop this thing from coming
But my poems can't stop its stealth

Next comes the really bad part
I'm lost in all the tension
The knife comes in and meets my wrist
As I fall into Depression