Steadily you write
As ashes hit the paper
Awake, though it is late
The night has come and so you wait
You dreamt tears of sadness
A pain that is deep within
A pain that seems, has always been
You dreamt and woke
It’s almost easier to be awake
For even in bed, you cannot hide from it
Where is the shore surrounding this empty abyss
You don’t know what you want, and yet it’s everything you miss
The blankets consume you, no longer with comfort
What is real
Is all of it pain
How can you feel, alone, wanting more
The rain does not fall, on this cold dreary day
The rain does not come; a bedroom’s ceiling blocks the way
If I could have started again
I know I would have lived different
If I could have started again
Would the pain have been lifted
I stay in bed until the night turns to black
Eyes glued to nothing, except thoughts of a broken reflection
One trying to go back
My only voice, scribbled on line paper in the middle of the night
Depression is just a part of this sickness
Depression feels like God’s love has been lifted
My love for myself has been shifted, from a conversation not speaking
God’s comfort, I’m not seeing
I write to give myself meaning
I write to keep myself company
Words with no purpose
Attempting to scribble anything that is worth it
To tell myself this makes sense
To tell myself, everything will be all right
If this is my life
Am I loosing the fight
If this is my life
Why is day only night
