I used to have potential,
The whole world ahead of Me.
Dysthymia had diff'rent plans,
Sapped all my energy.

I wish that there was a switch,
Like so many people think.
It's less a switch, more a siren,
I try to numb with drink.

I have started many things,
But how much have I finished?
I can only count my failings,
Leaving joy diminished.

I know what I want to do,
No dopamine to do it.
All to-do lists that I have made,
Accomplished not one bit.

I'm stuck in a miasma,
A debilitating muck.
All angel hands that reach for me,
Bring shame and guilt, not luck.

I know the path I must take,
But it won't stay underfoot.
I'd make my feet to stay on it;
They don't take my input.

Finding solace all alone,
Spending all day in my head.
I'm cocooning in a coffin,
Just waiting to be dead.