A Fight with the Tiger

I fought with the tiger again today.
I thought I had fully declawed him, but I guess I was wrong.
He came back to fight me again.
At first, his paw only struck me once and then he went away after leaving one mark.
He came back though, again and again, stronger each time.
The next time he came back, he left a couple more marks.
I slapped his paw away, slapping harder each time, but the harder I fought, the more determined he was to attack me.
The angrier I got at him, the angrier he got at me.
He was determined to sear my body with scars.
He attacked me ten times in one week, which is more than I have fought with him since high school.
I'm afraid he will win, but I have been strong enough to keep him away from my body for two days now, so maybe as the days get warmer he will go back into hibernation, or better yet, die and go to Hell where he belongs.

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This poem is about struggling to cope with depression.