Sometimes things get on top of me, walking down the road

As if my back was bending under a heavy load

But the weight moves round my head, in rings of constant throbs

At times it makes this full grown man resort to painful sobs

I take BP pills and more for epilespy each day before I eat

Then shop, walk the dog and housework with heavy feet.

I'm not allowed to iron or swim, incase I drown or set fire alight

As if I'd been sectioned to a silent place so dark at night

But depression I must make clear is not my daily plight

Music, books and poetry, a loving wife at the end of the day

And e-mails from two daughters often come my way

Then I see a white stick, a mobile seat and dementia

And know my troubles are nothing.