Wax for Wings

by Viktor Tejada

Why did I leave?
I was so good at it.
I had a song for every occasion.
For every self-loathing track,
there was a painful yet satisfying sting.
It just kept on stinging,
and stinging,
and singing,
and stinging.
I completely knew what I was doing,
and it felt right.
For each attack I felt cold, hurt, and empty.
And it was great;
I found comfort in it;
It even became a routine for years.

Depression has its perks for people like myself,
a man who was always just almost there,
a man with wax for wings.
Just when you thought that you wouldn’t see the light of day,
you see the sun peeking out the horizon.
Life was so much easier back when I saw the sun for what it truly is.
A big ball of fire ready to consume you far before you reach it.
With that, I tried to reach for it.

As I fall down with my melted wings,
the voices of apprehension creep back to where it used to be.
Sometimes depression needs to go,
but for now, depression stays with me.