The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
I am dancing
with your demons,
and you're dancing
And for a moment,
we forgot we're in hell.
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
DISCLAIMER: This is only from my personal point of view and how my battle with depression has been. Even though I am trying to recover, the battle gets very difficult for me sometimes and I have to remind myself that I am not my mental illness. My mental illness does not define me.
Did anyone ever make you smile like
Tip your head back and laugh like
Warm fingers reach out
Tearing their way through jewels
And deep blue velvet
As i sit in my room,
after the sound of shattering tungsten
i lack eyes that can see anymore
lack ability to hear in the audible silence
lack everything but the ability to feel
and so i feel
I just want someone to hold me
hold me tightly
black butterflies heading south
let me go with them