SpunOut.ie – The Mag – Fiction & poetry – A person called Depression

SpunOut.ie – The Mag – Fiction & poetry – A person called Depression.

So here I am once again,
Losing contact with the real world outside,
Fighting to breathe in a world underground,
Here I am chained to the ground,
Willing to open the closed trap door,
To experience the real world,
Where I feel I’ve never been before.

But I feel you here;
You’re cold and dark,
You make me feel alone and ashamed,
That the cause of this,
I am the one to blame.
So I find a solution -self harm,
Where you really tear me apart,
This is when you seem to always leave your mark – scars.

So here I am,
On my hands and knees,
Trying to defeat you;
This common disease.

I hate the way you play on me,
Twisting my mind and thoughts,
Was it me that brought this on?
Do you act cruel to be kind?

Do you not think that it is the time?
To put me up there so high,
Right up there into the bright blue sky.
Where in the day,
I would be part of a cloud,
Where in the night,
I would be part of a bright wee star.

The force to let go of these chains,
To break through this trap door,
To feel the warm breeze of relief,
Of being set free.
But to be set ‘free’,
Only appears to me as dreams.
So reality is that it seems,
I’m no soft white cloud or a star so bright.

This way you make me feel is not being me,
I feel like a different person,
Whom I’d like to call Depression.

You might bring me down today,
But we see who wins tomorrow.


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