Lots of times I find myself under what I call "stressure,"
A combination of distress and pressure.
No days or weeks of pleasure,
And I feel under the weather.

My head feels the pressure;
My mind, the distress.
Some days I can hardly get up and dress
Suicidal thoughts, onward they press.

I look at my meds-
Whites, yellows and reds.
I feel a strong surge of desire for someone to inquire
How I got this deep into the mire.

Oppression, repression, depression, suppression,
My life is hanging in suspension.
One bright day I'll get rid of this "stressure,"
Annihilation of distress and pressure.