I lie and convulse on the floor,
And throw up all I’ve had before.
The sight neither peachy nor pretty,
This cold, hard reality.

Scream and cry, I wish to die,
Upon this floor I wish not to try.
The air cold and dark,
I’ve only played my part.

Alone I quiver and moan,
Upon this floor I groan.
Clouded air chokes me,
And it won’t let me be.

Outside others think I’m fine,
I won’t let them take the time.
Help me I plead, help me,
But they can’t see me past me.


(Author's Note: ok here is one of my really depresed poems, one of too many.
What is our obsession with depression...hey i am a poet and didnt know it)
 
Copyright © marinesniper86, All Rights Reserved