They told me not to dwell in the past,
bluntly in voices of normal people -
people that have never visited the abyss,
and especially not been forced to live here.
The pain will go away, they promise me,
as if they knew what it was like
to live in every definition of the word "Pain"
every single second of every single day.
They speak as if they know what it is like,
because they had mild insomnia for three days.
It's not the same, because I cannot sleep.
It is impossible. Something so elementary, and taken for granted.
But it is literally physically impossible for me to sleep.
What I can do, however, is lose consciousness.
But that require medications, no matter the kind,
or exhaustion from being awake so long that I collapse.
So when anyone tells me that
they understand how it feels to be in my shoes,
the demons in my head laugh at me
for being blessed with "friends" so arrogant.
Never tell me that you have any clue
what it is like to live in this body.
This body that never stops aching,
that can never fall asleep.
This body, that never looks
like I want it to, this body that
makes me avoid mirrors
because I hate myself too much.
This is not a poem anymore.
This is a decree to anyone who will listen.
Stop insulting me by suggesting you know anything
about what it is like to be me.
Stop insulting me by speaking of hope,
because there is no hope. I can never be free.
This isn't a matter of attitude, sickness never is.
So don't tell me it's gonna get better.
Just stay by my side, and listen
long enough that you might be able
to slightly imagine what the abyss
and oblivion of all wishes looks like.
Because I was born into a defect body,
a body that has stolen my happiness
and hidden it deep in the embrace
of all the happy memories I once had,
the memories of times when it wasn't so bad.
The memories of a life worth living.
The memories of a world that wasn't poisonous,
the memories that Life and People decided to murder
and bury in a shallow grave surrounded by dead trees,
those memories of a time when living
wasn't the same thing as suffering,
because Life and People decided
that even my memories of ever being happy
isn't worthy of a tombstone,
and my love for living didn't even get
a decent funeral.
This title is unique because yes, it was a poem before the darkness of depression came and turned it into a poem/rant but you know what it's perfectly structured and set out. The first part representing that you are in that depressive mood with the words like 'dwell' 'abyss' and 'pain' they show that you are at that part in life where you may want to give up but intact don't because you're stronger than that. Then half way through the mood changes I feel to anger and that's what it's like one day you want to give up the next you are angry.
Every line is full of raw emotion and truths about how YOU feel with depression but I personally believe each person that suffers from this has a different outlook on it.
Hey this was brave of you to tell us what you feel. Every one can relate to this poem, including me. I can say that depression cannot kill us. On the brighter side, always remember that a good GOD watches over us and helps us stand up when we stumble. Nobody is really perfect.
It was quite hard this week to choose which ones would go in which order since each poem that I choose was powerful all on their own and no matter if they win or not they are still moving pieces of poetry.
This poem reveals so much about the poet that made it. It shows how to look inside that person and understand their situation, not a lot of people maybe, no one will understand what this poet has gone through or is going through this was a beautiful way to express what they have felt, how they lived, and how they keep on surviving. Truly enlightening and keep strong.
The title caught me to read this and yes it was indeed a poem before depression got the best of it. The changes in stanza, the mannerism and the written language is clearly visible. You took the effort to lay out your pain and midway...it just got you to become angry.
Certain pain, certain disease which we undergo nobody can understand the depth of it. Maybe to some extent but not fully. This write not only has pain and anger but a sadness that is deeply rooted-it eats away hope. Yet never give up-yes its easier said then done but the moment we say "I give up" then life itself will be bitter. Prayers I will send your way...take care and keep penning for this itself is therapy.