Below is a poem I wrote. It’s a bit dark and some of you wont like what it says. That is for you to decide if you want to read it. However, if my poem reaches one person and it brings hope to them because they deal with depression than I will be happy. More people than anyone realizes are dealing with depression. Thousands of people are committing suicide each year because of depression. Thousand are self harming each year. At some point more people are going to need to open their eyes and help. Also, if you are struggling please please please tell someone. Please call the Suicide Help Line at 1-800-273-8255. Please go walk to your local Emergency Room and tell them that you feel like hurting yourself. Please get some help. There are people that are willing to listen and there are people who will get you the help you need. There will be better days. It’s dark right now and I understand that, but the sun will shine again. The are better days coming. You just have to make it through the next minute, hour, day, week, month, or year. Just please get the help you need.

Sometimes the darkness closes in around me. I can see the light getting smaller. The gray is drowning out the light. Soon it will over take me and I won’t be able to fight anymore. I will just be here. A hollow shell of myself. There will be no draw to pull me out of my bed. Nothing to make me want to eat. I will have no will power for anything.

There are dark voices whispering vulgar words into my brain. Driving them deep into my soul. To the corners where they stick to the glue and they are there as reminders of how imperfect and unwanted I am. Where every insecurity that runs through my veins is hung from the ceiling in neon lights.

As the darkness wraps its greedy little blood soaked hands around my body and into my brain all I can feel is tears streaming down my face. Like they are trying to wash the blood from my demons in hopes of them letting my have even a fraction of light. Just a tiny glimpse of hope. Just enough for me to hold onto to pull my self out of this horrible grave. However depression doesn’t leave any sort of hope. It drinks that up like morning coffee fuelling itself to get its roots even deeper into you. It lets out this eery bone chilling laugh as it sinks it teeth into you. As if his slimy slithering self wrapped around you wasn’t enough then he digs his fangs into you even further. Letting his nasty venom fill your veins as he drinks in your blood. Literally pulling your only lifeline left in your body. You slowly feel it corroding your body as your eyes become heavy and you drift off into sleep.

Even his dark nasty words and Illusions fill your dreams. Sucking all of the color from those too. Making you feel like there is no hope and no one else to draw you up from the grave that you have come to call home. The smoke has now started to tiptoe itself into your grave. Like it came here to read you your last rights as depression starts to throw the dirt in on you and look for its next victim. The smoke gets really thick, so thick you can taste the burnt taste on it.

You take one deep breath thinking that it is going to be your last. You close your eyes and the tears stream down your face. You let out your breath. Half way through letting out your breath you feel the tiniest ray of sun. You slowly open up your eyes and the smoke has began to clear just enough for you to hazily see a tiny bit of light behind the clouds. There is someone’s hand waiting for you to grab it. You faintly hear a laugh followed by “until we meet again.” It is then you realize that you can breath and move. You reach for that hand and as you do the clouds break free and the sun is shining on your face again.

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2 thoughts on “Depression

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