Depression and Me
Azmaria Dei Post
26 May 2011
Creeping, crawling, sliding into my mind.
Slipping in with the thoughts of my life.
Taking over my desires and dreams of kind.
Turning the happiest memories into strife.
Like a giant green and black parasite mouth.
Long teeth reaching and hungering for my soul.
Looming over and growing, doubling every month.
Feeding on me, my essence, my happiness bowl.
It’s eaten my rosaries of happy memories now.
Lingering on to snack on what’s left to bleed.
Pressing down like lead and forcing me to bow.
To aquiesce to its demands, it’s hunger and greed.
And all the while the real me inside is aching.
Wanting out to be free, to stretch and run.
To get out and be what this lie is preventing.
Every day hollowing me out, without a loved one.
Someone to hug and cry on, the pain does build.
Just trying to be me, the me that is always hid.
It doesn’t matter any more if I am very skilled.
Just for a taste, a chance to be from under this lid.
Crushing and stifling the days do pass slowly.
Trying not to bother others, silent and still.
My scramblings to become myself becoming lowly.
Strange twisted thoughts confining me to bastille.
Struggling to be the woman I know I am inside.
Craving completion and a chance to be whole.
Forced to pretend to be something I’m not outside.
I don’t want this life sinking into this hole.
Take it from me and throw it away so kindly.
As you please so long as people stop and think.
If asking if you’re ok, don’t ask often so blindly.
Go away and stop asking today, leave me on the brink.
I hate myself, my reflection, my picture, my image.
The person I see is not the me that I am hidden away.
Very little semblance is that reflection of a visage.
But a false image of who I must every day portray.