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.