I cannot remember a time that was right
in my mind the memories oh so contrite
sited in a orthographic piece off the frontal lobe of my brain
my sadness and happiness turn to shame
I can safely say that in time
the songbirds bring serenity to the depths of the mind
quivering at the sounds of love and remorse
tonight I ride out on a black horse
croaked to a place rendered by hell
consumed only by the wrath of Satan's spell
the words to be known found near and far
can only become a back-draft from a gloomy spar
I'm but one man found all alone at night
deemed to his computer as he writes
with a cold smile found on his face
writing sad words to which he writes at his own pace
I'm a being battling a depression
found within the confounds of nothing but surreal suspension
can only repress nothing but the deepest confessions
of the past he once lived out in repression
The darkness repeats as time goes on
living his days out alone can only bring him so far
as his love is sleeping with another
he lies alone in a cold drunk stupor
In time which will bring another
into his life for a nice midnight slumber
but until the day that seems so far to come
he will right his poetry on the computer to which he loves...
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC
I cannot remember a time that was right
in my mind the memories oh so contrite
sited in a orthographic piece off the frontal lobe of my brain
my sadness and happiness turn to shame
I can safely say that in time
the songbirds bring serenity to the depths of the mind
quivering at the sounds of love and remorse
tonight I ride out on a black horse
croaked to a place rendered by hell
consumed only by the wrath of Satan's spell
the words to be known found near and far
can only become a back-draft from a gloomy spar
I'm but one man found all alone at night
deemed to his computer as he writes
with a cold smile found on his face
writing sad words to which he writes at his own pace
I'm a being battling a depression
found within the confounds of nothing but surreal suspension
can only repress nothing but the deepest confessions
of the past he once lived out in repression
The darkness repeats as time goes on
living his days out alone can only bring him so far
as his love is sleeping with another
he lies alone in a cold drunk stupor
In time which will bring another
into his life for a nice midnight slumber
but until the day that seems so far to come
he will right his poetry on the computer to which he loves...
a poem of love and depression
Request permission to use this poem