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My bag is heavy.
Filled with things no one understands,
things that I, myself, can't comprehend.
My shoulders ache from carrying it around.
But, fear consumes me
when someone tries to help me carry it.
The burden is mine.
You came and offered your help,
which I refused for so long.
But little by little, I realized you weren't taking the bag.
You were removing the things that weighed me down,
replacing them with feathers.
Until one day I realized,
the bag was easy to carry
YOU ARE READING
Falling
PoesíaA collection of short poems about pain and struggling with depression. Note: For everyone reaching out and asking if I'm okay, yes I am! I struggle with depression and writing helps me cope when I'm sad. It is a good outlet for my feelings and it ma...
