My depression is made out of- the hug of a demon’s darkness the spices from a witch’s brew, the touch of a magician’s spell, and finally; a hyena’s wicked laugh. I felt failure flow through my body as blood trickled down my leg, desperate to reach the ground I found- Embarrassment curling round me, as my Mum called out to me at the school play, “Good luck honey, don’t worry.” Lazy bodies spin in their graves, as the moonlight eats away the consuming abyss of darkness. My depression can- Carve through bodies, like a knife eating into butter. Summon clouds of tears and darken the world to a dull grey thing. If I lost this- My life would turn into a brighter thing; no more getting bullied and no more, being called a baby. The world would open up for me, No more getting swallowed by darkness. I really hope this depression goes.