Depression in Poetic Form

DEAR
     Depression:

             I have been thinking about serious issues all day-- if you're not sure what I'm talking about, read my previous post-- I thought I'd continue Poemmas with this rather deep look at the depression center of my mind. I wrote this two years ago, in a college class, and it's one of the most personal things I have ever created. I hope you like it.

Grey Thoughts

I.

A tiny void of ink, black–

my confusion blooming in that one small droplet. I

see thoughts pressed down, as shaky handwriting far

too heavy for someone who appears to be bright,

sunbeams. Emotions slowly becoming something else-

Black, curved, marching; dripping

I can taste them, touch them, almost.

But not quite.

II.

My ink feelings

leave velvet teardrops, shaded with

night, across stark paper, yet

all I see is distorted beauty:

lovely words saying terrible

things, drowning in an inky

wash wrung from my thoughts– I’d

hoped they would fade,

but the paper appears as an open wound,

raven scars biting pale skin.

III.

I'm stuck in

the exact moment between day and night,

just waiting. I'm

falling through the twilight sky, still waiting,

fading. My heart is grey, dim, alone; surrounded

by frozen sparks. I am sitting

in the arms of an autumn tree, slowly losing

my colors. – I shiver

I am covered by a bittersweet avalanche when

I cry;

the skies' tears join mine. Icy tendrils

bind my mind and my fears turn to glass

with one side. I can just see out, but no one looks

in past the glaze of laughter.

I think I might break- like glass,

like ice, like mirrors, like lies.

With A Blot Of Ink,

Joélle.