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Literature Text
The End
Through the matted haze
A silhouette, man or monster?
Are you there?
A trick of blackened mind?
You’d think my intended liberation cruelly selfish.
You’d ask -
What of the children? What of you? What of us?
These come as gifts to cling to.
I try to tell you.
I walk on the edge of an abyss.
But I am ignorant of it.
I am a fool to feel safe. A fool, unaware.
I walk for a while, and everything is okay.
There’s a path I follow, it leads straight, it seems wide.
The abyss always looms and I have to notice it.
It’s always waiting now. Always in the corner of my mind.
I trick myself sometimes into thinking it’s not there.
I distract myself along the path.
But one little stumble, the smallest of stones, and I am falling into it.
To start with I can catch myself, and drag myself back up.
Always I fall a little further.
Until one day I fall in completely.
I hit the depths and my body shatters.
The pain renders me incapable.
The darkness and fog cloud all vision and dream.
And I run, on and on and on.
I seek desperate escape; clawing, crying, dying, but never ending.
The darkness only envelops me further, cradling me in it’s shackles.
Then it dawns, the slightest ray of chilling hope, for there is only one escape that I can see.
And escape I must.
Through the matted haze
A silhouette, man or monster?
Are you there?
A trick of blackened mind?
You’d think my intended liberation cruelly selfish.
You’d ask -
What of the children? What of you? What of us?
These come as gifts to cling to.
I try to tell you.
I walk on the edge of an abyss.
But I am ignorant of it.
I am a fool to feel safe. A fool, unaware.
I walk for a while, and everything is okay.
There’s a path I follow, it leads straight, it seems wide.
The abyss always looms and I have to notice it.
It’s always waiting now. Always in the corner of my mind.
I trick myself sometimes into thinking it’s not there.
I distract myself along the path.
But one little stumble, the smallest of stones, and I am falling into it.
To start with I can catch myself, and drag myself back up.
Always I fall a little further.
Until one day I fall in completely.
I hit the depths and my body shatters.
The pain renders me incapable.
The darkness and fog cloud all vision and dream.
And I run, on and on and on.
I seek desperate escape; clawing, crying, dying, but never ending.
The darkness only envelops me further, cradling me in it’s shackles.
Then it dawns, the slightest ray of chilling hope, for there is only one escape that I can see.
And escape I must.
Literature
I was taught right from wrong
I was taught right from wrong
By a murderer
I was taught truth from lies
By a magician
I was taught who my friends were
By my enemy
I was taught to be honest
By a professional liar
I was taught to always speak my mind
By being told to keep quiet
I was taught to be kind
By someone that beat me down
I was taught to smile
By someone who could never wipe a scowl of their face
I was taught to love
By being abused
I was taught to live
By someone who was already dead
I was taught to perform
By someone with stage fright
I was taught to be excellent
By someone that failed in everything
I was taught to rely on only my self
By being su
Literature
Ways to conquer heartbreak
Dance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase
Literature
R.I.P Words
Do you know what it feels like?
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have not
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I used to judge people with depression really harshly. Like "man up, get over it." And then some things happened in my life that led to me suffering from depression and I finally understood.
And then I had a friend who had someone close to them try and commit suicide, and it upset him a lot, as it would anyone. And because I had suffered from depression, I was able to help him to understand why someone gets to that point.
And suicide is never the right answer, never. But what I want from this poem is for people to see what leads to suicide, and that it's not an act of attention seeking or even that point, a cry for help. It's a desperate attempt to escape the crushing pain and darkness that surrounds a person, because they can see no other escape. (Although there are other ways of escape, and if anyone feels trapped in depression at the moment, I encourage you to seek help
even if its just to note me).
I worked through my depression with the help of very supporting friends and family, and a wonderful therapist who taught me some techniques to help me before I spiral too far. Depression never really goes away, but with help I have learned to cope much, much easier and life is getting exciting again.
And I hope that this poem helps people to better understand people who suffer from depression, and maybe even help to start to heal some hurt caused by someone you care doing this.
And for anyone that suffers from depression, please go check out this blog - boggletheowl.tumblr.com/
Boggle the Owl is a small way to receive encouraging thoughts that sometimes brighten your day
-----------
Thank you for sharing with me
I used to judge people with depression really harshly. Like "man up, get over it." And then some things happened in my life that led to me suffering from depression and I finally understood.
And then I had a friend who had someone close to them try and commit suicide, and it upset him a lot, as it would anyone. And because I had suffered from depression, I was able to help him to understand why someone gets to that point.
And suicide is never the right answer, never. But what I want from this poem is for people to see what leads to suicide, and that it's not an act of attention seeking or even that point, a cry for help. It's a desperate attempt to escape the crushing pain and darkness that surrounds a person, because they can see no other escape. (Although there are other ways of escape, and if anyone feels trapped in depression at the moment, I encourage you to seek help
even if its just to note me).I worked through my depression with the help of very supporting friends and family, and a wonderful therapist who taught me some techniques to help me before I spiral too far. Depression never really goes away, but with help I have learned to cope much, much easier and life is getting exciting again.
And I hope that this poem helps people to better understand people who suffer from depression, and maybe even help to start to heal some hurt caused by someone you care doing this.
And for anyone that suffers from depression, please go check out this blog - boggletheowl.tumblr.com/
Boggle the Owl is a small way to receive encouraging thoughts that sometimes brighten your day
-----------
Thank you for sharing with me
© 2013 - 2024 Che-Crawford
Comments152
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I have depression too. But mine isn't caused by an event. It's genetic. And that's even worse. There is no reason to be sad. Just this overwhelming thought that all we ever do is suffer our entire lives and fight to live just to eventually die anyways. But no one understands so I made a mask. And now I've his under it for so long, the real me can only peak through occasionally. I don't even know who the real me is. All I know is what my mask would do. And so I do it.