deepundergroundpoetry.com
What does depression feel like?
Depression feels like empty emotionless evenings lying in bed, too tired to even eat.
It feels like not having the strength to shower or brush my teeth, to even breathe.
He feels like a never ending nightmare, except that I am completely and truly awake.
Depression is begging unseen forces to take you away, to end it all.
He is like suffocating on land, choking on the air that I am breathing through my lungs,
He is every unfinished conversation that I have ever had, every unspoken confession.
He has stitched my tongue to the roof of my mouth so that I cannot speak,
He has taken my mind body and soul away, leaving nothing but a husk of what I was.
Depression feels like wanting to be held by my mother, but not having the strength to move or even stand.
He feels like an anchor chained to the base of my lungs, stealing my air each time.
He feels like unwashed laundry and a room so dirty that all I can do is cry.
Depression feels like truly dying, being on the brink of what I assume is death,
Coming so close to being over and done with, and then at a moment's notice,
He is gone, and the weight of the world upon my chest has vanished.
But I cannot be happy yet, because I sit and wonder when he'll strike next,
When he'll come back to me again.
It feels like not having the strength to shower or brush my teeth, to even breathe.
He feels like a never ending nightmare, except that I am completely and truly awake.
Depression is begging unseen forces to take you away, to end it all.
He is like suffocating on land, choking on the air that I am breathing through my lungs,
He is every unfinished conversation that I have ever had, every unspoken confession.
He has stitched my tongue to the roof of my mouth so that I cannot speak,
He has taken my mind body and soul away, leaving nothing but a husk of what I was.
Depression feels like wanting to be held by my mother, but not having the strength to move or even stand.
He feels like an anchor chained to the base of my lungs, stealing my air each time.
He feels like unwashed laundry and a room so dirty that all I can do is cry.
Depression feels like truly dying, being on the brink of what I assume is death,
Coming so close to being over and done with, and then at a moment's notice,
He is gone, and the weight of the world upon my chest has vanished.
But I cannot be happy yet, because I sit and wonder when he'll strike next,
When he'll come back to me again.
Published 3rd Mar 2021
Author's Note
I am often asked this question by my loved ones.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 422
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
- Edited 25th Nov 2023 11:45pm
4th Mar 2021 10:14pm
<< post removed >>
