For each one of you who are going to read my poem, You’re why this poem exists, I exist.
What does depression feels like?
Because I knew my psychiatrist was right,
I wanted to keep being wrong.
I wanted to keep my bad routines
waking up late, scrolling the social feeds.
I think I like my demons fighting up with my wild flower
which I call my heart.
I don’t know,
I got my soul into pieces and they keep increases.
I think I like myself .
little torn as if it’s inborn.
I don’t know how to weep
but I want to keep this black sheep.
You think her bruises and injuries are windows
to a world that housed her shadows.
I realised today,
she’s dead.
you don’t get it okay,
even it is not easy for me to explain
my fears, my dreams, my hopes
which are afraid of living.
Before her sleepy eyelids ran
she scratches her swell to abuse the hell.
she still flinch to the slamming doors, restless hungers,
wrenching her flesh.
Isn’t this strange
to foster what could kill you.
Hey mom,
I’ve no notion to nourish this mess.
It’s just a game of chess,
where I’m losing to compress,
my distress.
You know mom,
how does it feels like,
when you’re murdered by your own mind.
when you treat yourself as leftover.
Depression isn’t just a war,
It isn’t just a battle,
It’s more than that mom,
You’ve given birth to an acute mess.
I’m going through never ending fears,
fear of being a black sheep of our family.
Fear of being an ugly character in this society,
which is judging my each footstep.
I’m sorry I’m not a daughter
you wanted dad,
I’m not the boy of the house.
I’m not your pride.
I’m good for a while,
as I smile,
I eat more, I talk more , I walk more
and then something happens
like a switch turns off.
Look at me mom,
save me from myself,
save me from heavy weight thoughts
and what if knots.
sitting alone for hours,
were screams are silents and insecurities are loud,
yes mom,
I’m fighting with the hell, the hell.
Depression is born.
Was it inborn in me ?
Have you ever weeped
’cause you are you,
I’ve done,
It’s getting worse in my head,
I’ve to stop
but not to stop LIVING,
but to stop DYING.
Picture courtesy : Google.
