The dirt is thrown.

Rip out the grass
setting free the soil underneath
as you dig those holes
larger with each stroke
the dirt is thrown
the remorse is uplifted
because messes
can be cleaned by anyone.
Freely you continue
as you slip into a rather large hole
and you lay yourself down
thinking could I lay like this forever?
How long?
Depression is a place
stuck between life and death
as you lay there taking shallow breaths
knowing your still alive
because you’re not quite ready to die.
Yet the idea of standing up
feels as if someone is throwing dirt
upon your body
as if your grave has already been dug
and you’re just laying in wait.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina