Black Dog. A poem.

The Black Dog snarls again, hanging from your neck
With caged fire teeth, its canines, piercing your carotid
Blood oozes, spits and sprays again, raining all around  
You struggle, gasp, hew and cry, finally falling down

The Black Dog is your enemy, Black Dog is your friend
Who everyday will shake you hard, just a little plaything
The Black Dog, he won’t let you go, at any time of day
Not for S.R.I.s, or N.R.I.s, or even T.C.A.s

But if and when he does, when you’ve finished bleeding out
You claw your way back from the pain, all the fear and doubt
Then you praise and pat the Black Dog, for the fire that burns inside
For the holy hearth that lets you write, for the fulsome dreams inspired

For the Black Dog has you by the soul, and darkness is his tool
The Black Dog hanging from your neck, who drains the life from you
The Black Dog with his irony, insincerity and woes  
The Black Dog he will never, ever, ever, let you go

As a person who suffers from long term depression, I thought it only right that I write a poem about it.