Depression's Grip

The shadows crawl across my soul, a heavy cloak of gray

A constant weight upon my heart, that won't be pushed away

My mind, a battlefield of thoughts, a constant, churning war

Where memories of yesterday, come knocking at my door

Depression's grip, a tightening vice, anxiety takes hold

Fear and doubt, a poisoned chalice, leaving me feeling old

PTSD, a phantom limb, a constant sting of pain

Trapped in the echoes of the past, where I can't escape the rain

I wear a mask to hide the scars, the wounds that never heal

The cracks beneath the forced facade, a story I conceal