Depression is a curved bell,
With a loud sounding boom it shakes you to the core,
Your insides rumble with the fear of losing everything and everyone,
Ears bleed and voices cry out in muted agony against the shock of sorrow,
Their efforts are meaningless when you start to slip,
When you really truly lose it,
Taking it out on your body no longer brings the pleasure you hoped,
Your scratches evolve into cuts,
And cuts to burns,
Until one day your mangled seared body decides you can't handle things,
You don't slip,
You just fall into the darkness below,
The slick slope of sadness is a scary one,
And once on that path,
There's no going back up,
Your nails cling to the sides in vain,
Bloody prints trail the road behind,
Resistance is futile it seems,
And when your times up,
You pull the noose closer,
Snug around your throat,
Like a warm hug,
But it's the last you'll ever have,
Because you slip.
YOU ARE READING
Journal
PoetryThis is just a collaboration of poems that I wrote to get me through the day sometimes. Dealing with heartbreak tends to be deep and unforgiving but this was the only way I knew how
