The Well of Styx

I must not keep returning to this well,
ringed by tombstones and flooded
by waters of Stygian flow,
for each bucket I lower hollows me.

I dare not keep returning to this well,
overgrown with shattering thorns
we, unheard many, call Depression:
even though leaving it untended hurts.

I cannot keep returning to this well,
for it makes sorrows the whole of me
and Death the ripples cast by stones,
or it will drain down to my soul.

But can you leave Me at all,
or will I drown you like the stones?