That Titan, Depression

A Poem

Atlas, holding up the world

Imagine rolling a boulder up a hill, only to watch it fall again, 

All the while having a planet chained to your broken, bloodied back. 

And, if you ever stop to take a breath, a crow comes to tear out your heart, 

Only to have it grow back, for the next time you even think to sit down. 


All while you have that planet chained to your broken, bloodied back, 

Imagine that every sinew, every organ, collapses from hunger. 

At least your heart grows back, for the next time you even think to sit down. 

So you can never really die, no matter how sweet that release may seem. 


Imagine every sinew, every organ, collapses from hunger, 

And no matter how much you eat, food turns to ash the moment you bite down. 

Yet, you can never really die, no matter how sweet that release may seem, 

So you keep at your labors, until your legs break and your lungs fill with blood. 


Yes, no matter how much you eat, food turns to ash the moment you bite down, 

So you keep your head down, until your body goes hollow, and eyes go black; 

So you keep at your labors, until your legs break and your lungs fill with blood. 

Good excuse to save your breath: the only one who hears you is that damn crow. 


You just keep your head down, until your body goes hollow, and eyes black. 

Sometimes, people see you, red-eyed vipers slither from their mouths when you fall. 

Good excuse to save your breath: the only one who hears you is that damn crow. 

Show them your shackles, and they beg you to go off and slay Typhon himself. 


Sometimes, people see you, red-eyed vipers falling from their mouths when you fall …

… That’s the worst of all, because you were supposed to be their champion. 

Show them your shackles, and they beg you to go off and slay Typhon himself. 

That’s when you feel your dead eyes well up, salt stinging tarred and feathered skin. 


It’s the worst of all, when you were supposed to be their god-damned champion! 

Yet, you’re rolling a boulder up a hill, just to watch it fall back down! 

That’s when you feel your dead eyes well up, salt stinging tarred and feathered skin… 

As you kneel, screaming, clawing out those eyes, a crow comes to tear out your heart.

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That Titan, Depression
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