Depression

They lied when they said you wouldn't come back.
Granted, they lied about a lot of things, but
That was one lie I took for the truth.
But how could I have not known it was a lie?
You came back
After the first time, and I
Told myself, it's just a moment, just a ditch
Because they said you wouldn't come back,
And I took that for the truth.
So when you did, I thought,
It must be me.
And then you left, and they said 
This was the last time I'd see you.
They promised me, this is it.
But you returned a third time
And still I blindly denied you, blindly told myself
That they were telling the truth
That you were just a manifestation
Of some other demon.
And maybe that was true, because
You disappeared, just like they said you would. 
And you were gone for a good long time—
So long
I almost forgot you existed.
And then you came back, and this time 
You were worse, like
A cancer that goes into remission before its final stage
And then snaps back
To take what it wants.
I guess that's why they call you an illness.
They said you weren't, of course, and I believed them
Just like I believed all the other lies about you
The ones I found on the internet
In books
When you were romanticized.
Those were little band-aids to cover up a wound
That was dripping red.
And normally, they worked, but this time
They didn't. They couldn't. 
Oh, they told me, they promised me, they said you wouldn't come back!
Why did I ever believe them?