Anxiety the past,
Praying on memories of old
Turning joy toxic
Parading doubt in front of others.
Questioning becomes an obsession
With the conscious gods.
Rewriting history through imagination
Feelings of guilt and regret
Cloud truth and innocence.
Depression the present,
And tireless days
Mask slips in lonesome moments
Reappearing with others,
Painting a fake smile in company
Swapping faces to suit situations.
Forever Praying for, and fearing, isolation,
A bittersweet time of clarity
In a day of celebration
Where the crowd mood is red
The depressives is blue.
Fear is the future,
To unknown happenings,
Maybe Death or incarceration,
No positive or warm to hold onto.
Uncertainty a devil of the mind,
Imagination the keys on which he plays
Silencing voice of reason.
Rationality plays part of advocate
Though fails to satisfy or reassure
Peace and calm.
Noone can predict what the future holds
Though my accurate twisted depiction,
Is feeling alone and cold.
Many are visited always by these three ghosts,
And Christmas occasions can prove too dour
An Understanding voice can sing like a Carol
A true gift given, in a much needed hour.