Depression is a thief of time, whom I once called a friend, I liked that she was predictable- and sometimes gave me an edge, But she has been a tricky lover, hard to get away from I've spent too many years hiding under my covers, my time to leave her has come See she makes my bed so appealing, begs me to stay in the house, but all my loved ones are leaving, I don't want to be the forgotten mouse When we scroll through old pictures, my youthful eyes cause pain, depression says I'll never be her again but I long to re-light that flame