The black dog bites, I find it’s jaws clamped around my knee,

I try to shake and kick and shout, but it just stares right back at me.

You think I’m budging? The black dog snarls- it’s teeth tight and gritted,

It’s been a long time since I felt this bad, the mental health blogger admitted.

I try and inspire & I try to “move on”,

But sometimes it just gets me and I’m forced to tag along.

Sick of this, sick of me,

Sick of my past, sick of how that childhood stuff still affects me.

But I plough on and hang in there as I have no choice,

At least I’m a survivor who’s found her voice.

I sing my song out-my message is loud and clear,

Mental health is a long term thing, rarely just a week, month or year.

I’ve had these problems for such a long LONG time,

Recovery sometimes is a brutal uphill climb.

But I’m not giving up. I never will,

I’m in for my life; not in for the kill.

Poetry helps, and drinking lots of cups of tea,

I’m a British tea-loving blogger, I do this no fee.

I try and do good things for people every single day,

Be a good kind person-that’s how I force the blues away.

But I’m sorry….I just can’t do that today

On my mental illness bed, in silence I lay.

I’m in my cave & I’m locked in here with the black dog in the dark,

Desperate for that enlivening recovery type of spark.

I know it’s there & I know I’ll find the light again,

I look at the black dogs glinting eyes, and whisper “but when”?