This poem is all about the fear that your creativity only comes from the depression or bad circumstances in your life. For a few days I wondered if my writing had gotten worse because I wasn’t as angry or venting as I had been with the previous collection. If my writing didn’t have that edge to it, was it any good? This poem is dealing with that idea, wrestling with wanting to dig the depression back up because otherwise life would be boring without any purpose. I wanted to wrestle with that idea and say no, it is not worth it to go back to feeling that way just for making content. I made AntiochProductions for myself and I am changing as time goes on, if my writing becomes different then I shouldn’t be sad that it isn’t as heavy as before. Because now I can live happily with a new writing style that resembles my happiness. We shouldn’t be forced to feel sad and monetize our pain just for people to be happy.
This poem was released the weekend before Halloween on purpose, holding some dead imagery for the atmosphere. I wanted this to be both a sequel to "Haunted" and "Dead And Buried". Here we have the author talk about how they have a fear of relapsing. Everyone has that feeling after PTSD I suppose, the fear that relapse is the only possible conclusion.
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