A Dialogue with Myself

When the darkness creeps in,

And sadness tries to take a win,

I've learned to be my own friend,

To heal, to bring back the light in the end.

I talk to myself, not in madness,

But in a dialogue that leads to gladness,

For when I address my sadness,

I can bring clarity to the mess, not in numbness.

The disease of sorrow can weigh us down,

But if we speak to ourselves, we can turn it around,

We can dissect the causes of our despair,

And learn to lift ourselves up, with self-awareness and care.

In this dialogue with myself, I find,

That I can free my thoughts, and unbind,

The chains that hold me beneath,

And let my true self, break free, like a wreath.

Writing has also been a savior, dear,

For in the words, I can release my fears,

I can express my pain and turn it to art,

A way to heal my soul, and have a fresh start.

Writing out the disease, in ink or on a screen,

Is like setting free, a heavy burden unseen,

It releases the toxins we hold within,

And allows us to breathe, and to begin.

So, my friend, when sadness tries to take hold,

Remember, you can talk yourself out of the cold,

You can be your own friend, and turn it around,

And write out the disease, letting the pain unbound.

For in this dialogue with thyself,

Comes healing, redemption, and self-help,

You are your own strength and light,

You can lift yourself up, with all your might.