There is an echo in the distance,
Down deep inside it tickens,
Like a voice, a whisper, a ghost,
Tormenting, taunting and burning the host.
These demons inside, I can't keep,
Yet every time they leave, I weep,
I hide all my fears deep inside, does it matter?
But to be true, I wish I was burying anger.
There's an echo deep inside,
But is it in my gut, my heart or in my mind?
Is it twisted, an ache cut deep or maybe just a laughter?
Maybe that's normal? Maybe I'm Mad Hatter?
There's an echo, loud and clear,
Yet it is so quiet and soft, my dear,
The voices in my head, they start off a whisper,
Getting louder, wilder, heavier, in an instance.
These feelings inside, ready to explode,
Secrets exposed to the naked world, exploit,
It's too much, I can't bare,
I just want to scream and share.
They say don't cry, you're perfect,
Yet their actions are what project,
The echo inside my head, reasures me cold,
Hush little baby don't say a word.
Nobody believes what you think you heard,
These drugs they gave me is a sure cure,
No more voices, no more noises, lies,
They don't care about you, for all they care, everyone dies.
The pills have no effect, they never did,
The echoes are still deep down inside, in the distant.
YOU ARE READING
The recovery
PoetryThis is a collection of my poetry that I am writing during my depression, some are very dark and some are happy memories. I am going to try to publish every day
