I
Melancholy days lingering like sickness,
Fortitude slipping through icy fingers.
Creeping, consuming your whole existence,
Draining the essence of life without one knowing.
II
Struggling for a time but giving in after,
Drowning oneself in desolation and silence.
It's numbing lending false peace,
Believing the coming of the dawning light.
III
Waiting is tiring as acceptance is blinding,
Welcoming, wallowing, weeping, conceding.
Too early, too soon-- foolish and indolent,
Offering bliss, acceptance and finally rest.
IV
Coward, thoughtless, weak, maybe I am,
Listening, dreaming, hoping endlessly.
Faded with the mist, forgotten in no time--
No one remembers until I close my eyes.
***
Written for a friend with
SAHM depression
YOU ARE READING
Ode to the Lost
PoetryNot a story but a collection of poems I wrote over the years. I started writing poems during my late teenage years. It served as my outlet to keep angst and anxiety at bay. Hope you'll find it therapeutic and worthy of your time.
