Depression...

I entered his room and called him up

To come outside, It’s raining here

But to him, nothing matters much

And rain was a fear

He was hiding himself

Alone in the room

With a decrepit heart

As just had gone through doom

He was touching and reading

Some letters again and again

The letters from past

Reflecting his love and pain

Around him, I had seen

Some empty bottles of beer

He tried them, with heavy heart

When missing someone near

On his left hand

He had some marks of cuts by knife

Which were revealing the truth

That he was tired of his life  

I came out, blank from there

Remembering, how funky he was

Who used to made everyone cheerful 

  With his chirpy talks and crass

It is what love had returned him

A Gift  of misery’s possession

Letting a lively sweet boy

Into death of depression.