A poem about depression and attempting to overcome it.

I am the rejected one.
I feel completely depleted.
Like a squashed bug, under my thumb.
My guts are splattered on the ground.
I don’t feel special.
I don’t feel pretty.
I can’t feel anything but emptiness.
I so desperately need a hug, but social distancing rules won’t allow it.
I’m trying to remind my self that, “This too shall pass.”
But the words fall flat on my ears.
My only friend is my cigarettes.
They are my mindful death.
The exhale of smoke soothes me.
Keeps me focused.
Keeps me in the now.
The burn in my lungs though, tells tales of my mortality.
And I revel in my death.
But it’s a fools journey to chase after death,
for it will come to me willingly, all in good time.
I do find strength in my Mother.
She is my rock and my hope.
I try to emulate her faith.
And sometimes I can taste the joy it brings.
But other times I am selfish…and I just sink further into the abyss.
But in this moment,
she lifts me up and dries all of my tears off of my face.
And for a few blissful moments, I find the perseverance to trudge onward.
For her…I can try to live again.

I have a few books published on Amazon. My newest book is called, “The Firestorm of Tears.”

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