Yes, like my depression things fall apart They say "poor thing, she's in depression." that's when it falls apart in every corner of me. I cannot gather myself neither can the 'poor thing' I am inside it, helpless watching it fall in me watching me fall in it. didn't I fall in love too? or did love fall for me? I don't know, how can I? I'm in depression, you see. Poor thing, this depression falling for me, falling in me. A part of me, never apart from me. The day is cloudy And I am a bit moody Things fall apart As my mood plays its part. Have things fallen apart for you where you struggled to make sense of the whole, but found yourself going down a hole instead? The title of your poem today is the title of Chinua Achebe's 1958 novel Things Fall Apart. This title in turn is borrowed from W.B. Yeats's poem The Second Coming.
