Depression

Personification

Where do the taken lives go?

Are they kept by the Reaper in a satchel with a stitched in frown?

Are they kept by their Takers next to the sorrows they drown?

Or are they kept by their Corpses until the wreaths of flowers brown?

I wouldn't trust you if you claimed to know.

Do they wander near Hospitals and check each and every gurney?

Do they wander near the Courthouses and haunt the defense attorney?

Or do they wander near the Listless Ones, numb to the journey?

What exactly happens after death?

And how is it that one can take their own life?

And how is it that the world's full of strife?

And just how is it that I can't put down this knife?

Do we even get a choice?

Did we ever?

Fruits of Friendship

I

sometimes need help

to pull through.

Trust

overcomes my

stubborn pride.

You

extend your ever

helping hands.

We

stand together

against woes,

will

strengthening our

joint defense.

Bond

growing with my

life-long friend.

I

truly treasure

your gentle aid.

Love

taking it’s place

in my heart.

You

are someone I

depend on.

Gasping for Air

Today I woke inside a cell.

Suffocating on the open air.

The walls could talk, it felt like hell,

Their chanting taunts, their chilling stare.

I was drowning there, down in that place

trying to breathe without a face.

Meanwhile the walls laughed at my torment

at the tiny broken toy's pathetic lament.

A little soldier, lost in the maze of halls.

Eager to share with me their every discontent,

They will make sure I drown under the weight of the walls.

Curled up in a ball, I find it hard not to dwell

on the horror of this everlasting nightmare.

I tell myself I try, I convince myself I yell,

and yet I always wake up back under their glare.

In the end, I know they could dissapear without a trace

and I would still be lying here, enclosed in my vase.

Without fail, I understand I will always consent

to the tyranny of iron, the rule of cement.

Regardless of how far the little boy crawls,

my demons will always be there with murderous intent.

They will make sure I drown under the weight of the walls.

I grow to love the pain, as if I was under a spell.

Like a rabbit in love with the comfort of a snare.

The despair in my heart begins to swell,

knowing that it's spread is a forgone affair.

It's arms reach around me with a chilling embrace,

and my silent resistance is an utter disgrace.

I know there can be no hope here, the walls will never relent

as their rhetoric like saintly angels begins its ascent

and whispers into my ears like howling squalls.

On their every word hangs poisonous resent

They will make sure I drown under the weight of the walls.

On Love

You always hear

"Love hurts"

But what they don't tell you is this:

To love is easy

Between dreamy fantasy

Or memory sweetened by time

To be loved is like taming a wild animal

Often unattainable

And you always get bitten

Longing

How I long for another's loving gaze,

and want for silken kisses, candy sweet.

How I desire the pure and simple phrase

that prompts my weary, longing heart to beat.

I long to see this life of mine complete

with gentle words caressing eager ears,

but sadly fate and I again compete

as I forever battle doubtful fears.

Despite my wants, despite my heart's defeat,

the truth always shines on through these tears.

No need for comfort, I will not retreat,

because the haunting darkness always clears.

Doubt

If you cared you could have told them to wait

Instead of leaving me bleeding on hook and bait

Struggling to deal with the shock and the hate

Feeling like meat you labeled second-rate.

We all make mistakes, but was this one?

Or a sign of our future to come?

Could it be that you're changing, or that the change is done?

Maybe it's been this way and my perception was spun.

Self-satisfaction under the guise of necessity

Left me standing alone while you were in ecstasy

I feel used and abused and cast aside selfishly

Grappling with the reality that you'd chosen them over me.

Nobody owes me their body or their mind

There need be no repayment for being kind

but I refuse to ignore and refuse to stay blind

To asymmetry so clearly underlined

You'd feed the mouth that bites you

And I know you'd love it too

Small Things

I rather enjoy the small things.

The laugh of the crowd, people standing proud,

A rock on the road, the croak of a toad...

I rather enjoy the small things!

But soon enough watching a cloud became disavowed...

Then Father Time showed to take what was owed...

And now I can't enjoy the small things!

What’s more, it seems others too have been caught up, like you!

We work and we toil against the rocks and the soil...

And now none of us stop to think of the small things...

If only we knew, if only there was some sort of clue

To learn the plot’s foil, to be freed from this coil!

If only we could enjoy the small things.

(Un)Certainty

Identity

is a sorta funny thing

because it really means nothing,

almost like all those

constellations.

Perceptions

can vary so wildly

and what's danger to you

could to me be

lenity.

Authority,

when it comes to me,

is really just an educated guess.

One that changes like

prescriptions.

Depictions

of my actions, then,

must be flawed interpretations

made with starry-eyed

credulity.

...

At least, I think so.

Maybe?

Performative Grief

You say you're working through things

but I really just can't tell

because every time we talk

it's the same old kind of hell.

Despite the weekly crises

our issues remain the same

and I'm starting to believe

we're both playing some sick game.

Incompatibilities

seem to define our love

instead of gentle comforts

that we used to be made of,

but for our yesterday's sake

I'll dance to this tune's motif

and keep rehearsing our next

hollow performative grief.

Running Up the Stairs

Slow down, my dear Self, stay calm,

make sure you walk before you run.

Be cautious lest your head gets spun!

You know that you're prone to bomb

things that are placed in your palm.

I know, I know, it feels so fun...

high hopes and the best has begun,

but remember, heed the qualm!

Although... if you are cautious,

avoid the pain, and guard your heart

then are you truly living?

Doesn't that make you nauseous?

Is it not a costly part

to slave under misgivings?