Poetry=Therapy

 

 

Depression is a powerful thing,

 

 

It can prevent you from participating in life.

 

 

A heavy weight always on your heart,

 

 

A misery following you wither you go.

 

 

You lose interest in things you once loved,

 

 

Energy is but a faded dream.

 

 

Love becomes something to be dreaded,

 

 

Affection feels very awkward.

 

 

Even the littlest things require effort,

 

 

You hate the human race.

 

 

You wish you never existed,

 

 

And curse the day you were conceived.

 

 

Dreams coming true is a thing for children,

 

 

The future seems impossible and hopeless.

 

 

You want nothing but to die,

 

 

You want to kill yourself.

 

 

And yet, still you hesitate,

 

 

The thought of stabbing breeds fear.

 

 

You are not sure you can do it,

 

 

What if you fail?

 

 

You reconsider often,

 

 

What if your dreams do come true?

 

 

The terrifying conflict never ends,

 

 

The battle’s upper hand changing oft.

 

 

For now, the pain is too much to bear,

 

 

You don’t know what happiness is.

 

 

Wanting to die, but wanting your dream,

 

 

The war continues inside.

 

 

But, for now, I’ll give life a chance,

 

 

Postponing my suicide till another day.

 

 

Who knows? Maybe my dreams will come true,

 

 

After all, life is a powerful thing.