So did Depression

Inside the brain of a sick man
is a grain and a trick can.
When he opens it;
They, he and i complete
Fall into a blur, obscure
A sleep that spurs, a slip preferred
Until the bleep that shows that i was here.

Disorder, my brother, is why we are bothered
Mood that is altered and interest unordered
Will poke our mental. With gnashing of teeth
the stroke may be dental but mental repeat.
There’s health if we treat
And wealth in retreat
But stealth is needed to help this deplete

Leonell