Poetry Sessions: Dis-Ease

I rise each morning praying for the power of invisibility. Then heading downstairs to have my predictable breakfast.

 

On the menu was the usual, a bowl of insecurity with a side of spite, followed by a healthy glass of detachment, chugging it all down with iron pride.

 

I maneuvered through the crowd, unseen.

Slumped over staring at the cracked grounds, telling fibs to my cohabitants, claiming to be well.

Never making any eye contact, for they were the windows to the soul. I couldn’t let anyone detect that mine was hollow.

 

Cobwebs on my lungs due to misuse.

Heart bruised and black from abuse.

Spine brittle from the lack of support.

 

The past was tainted; the present dull, and the future bleak.

Lacking direction what path was I to take?

Every street missing a street light, every corner blocked in sight.

 

Depression felt like an empty well missing its most important content.

A drained mind missing its common sense.

Internal agony becomes so familiar that happiness becomes uncomfortable.

Foreign to positivity, alien to the self.

 

 

 

 

P.S.

Depression is one of the worst silent diseases. I remember a time where I was haunted by lost hope, and emptiness at every turn. Trust me, once you find your true self it all fades away. I believe that the body speaks to you through illness. Listen to it, and don’t silence it with medication. Look inside, find the imbalance, and cater to it. I promise it gets better.

 

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