Conquering Depression

At times I feel helpless. It's difficult to describe how it feels to a person that has control over themselves. How can you explain it when everything is just... empty?
Logic doesn't apply when it's the emotions that are the problem. Technically false, but feels so true.
The problem with what I feel is that it takes away all motivation to fix it. Technically there are numerous ways, but depression is unique in the way that it's the only disease to cripple your willpower.
What happens if you get a physical trauma? You can use sheer willpower to eventually come back to your normal life. This applies to almost any kind of physical trauma because even if you can't be exactly as you were before, you can still improve greatly.
Mental diseases? If you have Alzheimer's there are ways to refresh your memory. Put stickers on things if you forget their names. Take notes of things that happen so you can remember them later.
For most diseases there is always something that you can do. For depression this applies too. But the problem with depression is how it convinces you there is no hope. A lack of hope is the most crippling disability there is.
But in the end what matters is not how you feel, but how you channel your feelings. If you can just get your feelings out, your life will get better. With depression the way to get back to life is to prove to yourself how you can do something. Channeling your feelings to something, anything, can get you moving. As long as you do anything it doesn't get nearly as bad and so by channeling your feelings you can break out.
Hence, I wrote a poem. Creative writing is one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done and my best writings were always from times when it was truly hard to keep going.

∞
Oh dear, we have potential
Us, humans, but so broken.
What a fine world,
to not conquer.
It always swirls,
yet remains unspoken.
Granted us by gods,
but now just taken.

From our ceasing words,
no longer feel the warmth.
The passion burns,
but only as temper.

I wish we'd heed the call of this melody,
Grasp the straws and be gratified.
Like a fool, but uplifted.

In times we feel well,
but usually live in cells,
of our existence so frail,
from these bars can't bail.
Yet at times can fly,
view the world from up high,
Realistically - before we die.

We are forsaken,
or so believe,
but are mistaken,
hopefully.

Why are we confined to chains of emptiness?
Who gets the gains from our sadness?
From our hollow hearts empty of happiness?
From the nights lost to sleeplessness?

It feels all in vain,
but to this sadness,
we give our tribute,
in sheer madness.