Healing Hearts Poem by vickie fuhriman

Depression,
called a deisease by the medical world,
but a present to me.
It gives me a reason to want to die,
more than my thoughts could alone.
I fight this second by second,
wondering how much longer I will last.
For the love I have for others,
I cannot feel for myself.
My heart has been broken so many ways
that only time will mend it.
I fear now that the time does not
pass fast enough.
Therefore my life might end
before I have a chance to heal.