Its 2:57 a.m and I just want to write,
And yet every time I find a few words
They don't feel adequate for what I'm trying to say.
Maybe I don't even know what I'm trying to say
Maybe I shouldn't say anything.
I tend to be good at not saying things
Keeping them hidden under lock and key.
But every once in a while, I feel it,
I mean, really feel it.
My skin screams at me and my brain feels like its collapsing
Underneath the weight of all of these unformed sentences.
My body feels wrong in these moments, like it's never been mine at all-
And maybe I wish it wasn't.
Its 3:04 a.m and I have so many things to say
So many things to feel.
Too many things.
I wish I wasn't so easily overwhelmed,
And I wish I was capable of processing this.
Ever since he died, I get this feeling sometimes
It happens randomly
And everything just feels wrong.
I feel out of place in this world,
Like I've left my body for a brief moment
And I'm seeing my reality for what it truly is.
Empty is the best word I seem to find.
A shell of who I was before
Hollow and cold,
Not really living
Just alive.
In these moments air seems to escape me,
And I can destroy myself
Starve myself
Scratch at my skin as if something lies underneath it,
To no avail.
In these times, there is nothing that can help me.
There is no comfort to be found
Nothing but darkness by my side,
Nothing but misery left behind to swallow me whole
And continue to devour my being.
I can feel myself deteriorating
Walking closer to the edge every day.
And yet I can't bring myself to care.
Of course I wish I wasn't shrouded in negativity
And I don't want to be "too sad for you" anymore
But I can't help it when everything in my body is screaming at me that I'm wrong.
That you're wrong.
That everything is so unfathomably, undeniably, incredibly wrong.
Its 3:28 a.m and I still have so many thoughts
And nothing left to say.
YOU ARE READING
My Depression Poems
Teen Fiction*TRIGGER WARNING* just a collection of shit I came up with to try and feel better.