this is not a poem
this is a rant
this is a rant
about the black dog
the black dog that
drags me down
into the mud
this damn dog
has me in a death grip
jaws locked tight
neither of us knows
how to let go
on some days
I can dance
on the surface
of this mud that
must own me
and on some days
I can somehow
stay on top
even when the ground
keeps giving way
on some days, the light,
struggling,
breaks in
when the fog won't lift
or darkness ease
but most days,
most days,
are suffocating
in this sludge
this damn dog
drags me down
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