I dwell in the darkness of depression,
it draws me deeper into its depths,
drowning me in dismal drapery,
dispatching me in despondent directions.
This debilitating disease is demanding dour disaster,
detrimental damage and deadly destruction.
It is a devious despot devoid of delicacy,
detaining me in detestable deserts.
My daily dreams of death are dampening the dawn,
I dance with demented demons to the delight of devils.
Directing me down desolate doorways
to a dark dystopian destination.
Dogmatic displays descend upon deaf deities,
devotions and demands distort into drone and drivel.
Deiforms do nothing but disenchant,
downtrodden divinities destined to disappoint.
Despair decimates my defenses,
decapitating the demigods daring to defend me.
Drunken days deliver no deliverance,
the doleful dusk only deepens my desperation.
I am deserted, I am deceived, I am done.
Do I deserve the doubt and damnation that now defines me?