when something tragic happens
people are there for us
they go with us through the break up
through death and pain
but with depression it is diffrent

because it doesn´t end
but people get sick of hearing
you are not fine

they want to see you recover
but I can´t
Depression is not a sickness you can get over

It follows you around
like a cloud blocking the sun
and now and then rain will pour down
and it will all come crashing in

It´s the never ending feeling of pain
of panic
of nothing

and then I feel bad
and I´ll self-pity myself
and now I feel so stupid
because there are people
people who have it worse

and here I am
drowning in self-pitiness

but that is exactly what depression feels like

It feels like I am drowning
while everyone else is breathing just fine

It feels like the fear you have when you miss a step
but you never reach the ground
so the fear won´t go away

It feels like ropes tie you down
you can not move
can not stand

I can not do anything
do anything right

and all I want is this to end
but the only solution seems so hard to procide
not even that, I can do

I am not doing good
but no one wants to hear about it
because it has been to long
without improvment
so I´ll just fake it
maybe if I tell myself long enough
I am fine
I will be

My wretched little life
Consumed by pity.
Trying to open my eyes,
I feel the weight.
Why bother standing
Here in this blistering cold?
My soul's worthless
Anyways,
Too old.
I'm always shivering,
Constantly battling
Deluded musings
And babblings.
Maybe I've gone sane,
Maybe I'm numb to the pain
Of normalcy.

I'm rummaging through my messy-closet mind for the choice bits of delectable emotional pain
The agony that come from being the complex and bitter soul I am

But I'm not finding any

I'm actually fairly happy.
Moderately cheerful.
Not floating on clouds, or manic, or bursting with energy.

Just... pretty good.  Quite alright.

This isn't good for poetry.

Or self pity.

What do I do now?

I've been wanting to write a song since I was 17 years old.
Put my own things to the side, to help another man grow.
Now I'm here at 25 tryna find what I stand for.
With my little girls eyes watching every move close.
I lost all my sense of pride, had me laying on the floor.
Felt so much pain inside, still couldn't make it out that door.
Felt like I failed my daughter inside, let her see her mother choke.
Saw the pain all in her eyes and knew that it was time to go.

My car won’t work,
I’m totally *******!
It’s acting totally rude;
Imbued with a bad attitude.
Like a metal horse
That needs to be shoed
It’s behavior is almost lewd
Waiting around for a rich guy
To come and be the dude
I checked to see if the problem is
Lack of water or life-giving crude,
Oil that is, Texas tea.
It’s silly to expect wealth of me
Always broke, an automotive joke.

All I can do is sit and croak
Like the frog on a log spoke
And since my car chose to croak
I gave my mechanic a poke.
He decided my wallet was too full.
Now I’m in the thrall of a lull
With too much idle time to ****.
I’ll pay the bill, I know I will,
But still, this whole thing is a pill.
It’s not that I hate holding still,
It’s just that I have so few frills
And this is financially uphill.
I will make it work somehow
But for now, it’s back to the plow
That I’ll pull but don’t know how.
A result of the here and the now.

I may just be whining, not sure
But I see no ready-made cure
For now my sense of loss is pure
And there may be no sinecure.
I just have to grin and endure.
I walk and I wait and I cuss
Waiting for the ever-late bus
To ride with other unfortunates.
At least I’m not on a date
And being embarrassed to state
The case of my pauperish state.
Really, none of this is great.