Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2016
This eternal chamber of sorrow I lie within
The stench of a decaying soul I smell
A shriveled heart withering away
A crippled mind unable to carry a thought
Broken limbs, numbed from the pain
This madness a spiraling staircase growing colder as I descend
Reaching the bottom... quiet now
Screaming to the outside, but it is only a whisper
Scraping together what is left of me
My eyes blinded by the harrowing darkness
Neither heaven nor hell taketh me
Left in this eternal chamber of sorrow
I shall see how I fare in this chasm tomorrow.
Depression is neither an evil nor good. It simply exist as its own device.
Written by
Hunter Stewart  West Monroe L.A.
(West Monroe L.A.)   
   Mirela TotiΔ‡
Please log in to view and add comments on poems