Quicksand Poem by Muddy Waters

The trap is on my path, somewhere.
It helps me not to be aware.
I do not know what place or time
I will descend into its slime.

I feel it now as I begin to sink
As it pulls me well past the brink,
Slowly and inevitably
And I know what awaits me.

How long there will I stay?
A few minutes? Maybe a day?
Or will it be a week or more?
As all around me I ignore.

Friends, family, things that I love
I reject them all with a shove.
They cannot help; I am alone.
Into a hell I have been thrown.

Will it get worse, could it deepen?
Terrible depths of depression.