How deep is your depression?

How deep is your depression? Is it as deep as mine?
A mighty grip it holds me, tightly by the night.
Perhaps you may have noticed, its twisted rhyming game.
A winding shaded tunnel, with no stairs out which to climb.

It’s really dark and lonely, but your never quite alone.
You know it waits to haunt you, when your respite has no home.
Its blades puncture your skin, your own face drops your chin.
Or are you just full of sin? And torrential disgrace?

It aims to prod and poke you, whilst heckling its lies.
If not forgotten, all the hurt, all the pain, I’d be sure, be gone insane.
A wager from a whore, made me scratch out my own eyes.
Perhaps my minds gone rotten, personas hidden by disguise.

They say I’m rather mental, perhaps they may know this is true.
But all I ever wanted, a soft and gentle kiss, from a lady such as you.
Someone to love and hold me, someone who always cared.
Not someone whom taunt me, bled me, then made me oh so scared.

The man he knew he owned me, the drugs flowed for free.
But did he really take me, on that journey of sodomy.
Perhaps I’ve never wanted, money or fame.
But blood soaked tears, I shred for years, I feel I’ve done my time.

My crimes are long forgotten, was I even to blame?
I know my parents remember it well, the blue lights, the shame.
A degree I couldn’t pass, I ended on my arse.
With debt as high as mountains, then tears they flowed like fountains.

A battered wife, a tortured soul, a lifetime living on the dole.
No church, no place to call my own, I roamed lost and walked alone.
From place to place, an empty face, not part of the human race.
I hope you never understand, how it feels, without a helping hand.

I love you, I kill you, I’m talking to myself.
Don’t want a pension, or fake wealth.
I slowly slumber, into stealth.
And gently fall too sleep.

By Stuart Otway-Smith

2 comments

  1. Stuart Otway-Smith · April 28, 2012

    Note to self:

    Better out than in!

  2. Note back: yes better out than in! XO

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