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Depression - Part II

by optiplex 

Posted: 21 November 2004
Word Count: 195


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Finally - I get what I want,
Silence, peace and an empty house
The thing that I once craved, now my enemy.

Rolled up in a ball,
In the corner of the room,
The white walls closing in on me....

Tears start rolling down my face,
No one loves me - I want to scream
I can only think of one thing...Loneliness again.

A different type of loneliness,
Silence day-by-day, no interaction, no conversation.
I crave someone’s touch, someone's love

I go for walks, wanting to talk
Hoping, praying some one will notice me
Ask me for a drink, a chat or even just the time.

I look at my front door - and know now what waits inside.
Those lonely rooms, those memories of before
A house full of depression

I let myself in,
Sit on the floor,
Scrunch myself in a ball.

I wonder to myself - was it better before?
The thought that I had occasionally before comes back to haunt me
Again and again - Suicide... an easy escape?

Will someone tell me the answer?
Make the hate, the pain all go away.
I want to lash out, but at whom?







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Comments by other Members



youngskywalker at 23:10 on 21 November 2004  Report this post
hi there optiplex,
had to read part 1 after reading this, then came back to re-read,
i would have to disagree with the fact you don't call yourself a writer,
because this to me is everything writing should be,
i've been there in the empty house just before last christmas, there's not much thats really different now except i have furniture and i write lots of things down, some has been for a kinda therapy i guess, but some is starting to be for a laugh,
anyway, getting back to where i was,
great writing, hits a bit of a nerve inside me,
thanks for sharing it,
take care,
Bryan.

joanie at 19:07 on 22 November 2004  Report this post
Hi optiplex. I think the first stanza alone would convey what you want to say..... so much so, that I wonder if you could repeat it at the end?

Very good,

joanie

Zettel at 00:22 on 25 November 2004  Report this post
Opti

Something, anything, however small (a poem is perfect): that makes one lift an arm, get up from the bed or the chair, go outside, notice the world and respond even silently. The black dog makes us see things upside down: not, we must feel better to act; but that we must act to feel better. If the boulder at the cliff's edge is too big to shift, find a rock and a stick and prise the bastard off the edge. Once its rolling, you'll wonder how you ever thought it was in your way.....until you come across another boulder...and you will: then repeat.

Moving, affecting poem: satisfying to read.

Keep writing it's win win: for you and for us.

Best wishes

Zettel


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