Depression
8 December, 2004
Author: Mike
It creeps up on you when you least expect.
All your thoughts it will collect.
It can't be ignored, this feeling of woe
As you walk around in a cloud of sorrow.
It gets passed on to everyone you meet,
Getting bigger and bigger as it feasts.
The emotions of everyone geting sucked up,
Devoured and spat into a golden cup.
As red as wine, as deep as the sea,
The fluid reaches the very bottom of me.
Pouring from all my open wounds,
caused by all the untold truths.
I cannot express the pain I feel,
The wounds of which will never heal.
It will always be there until my death
From when I awaks until my last breaths.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Leah (204.112.162.35) -- Wednesday, January 5 2005, 10:52 am very sad....its crazy how well ppl can express themselves and the way they feel in words.its a form of art and you should keep on. |
| Aimee . H (210.55.106.44) -- Thursday, January 6 2005, 10:27 pm Your poem is REALLY REALLY good!!! Very nice Sad but very nice |
| Britney (67.136.121.12) -- Monday, February 7 2005, 04:02 am This was a great poem! |
| LBK (84.9.36.131) -- Saturday, March 12 2005, 12:44 am "It will always be there until my death"...It won't I promise. It will go if you let it go...just give it time |
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