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Depression (A Poem)

By: Antonio Rivera

Page 1, A short poem

Ah, you are here I see.  To be honest, I knew I would see you some time soon.  This week has taken its toll on me, and I have been feeling you under my skin.  It is late in my life; I do not have the time to start over.  When I was relieved of my job, I saw you.  To make matters worse, I arrived home to my door being stamped with an eviction notice; again, I saw you.  I tried to evade your presence; I tried to fill my congested mind with happier thoughts.  Thoughts of times when I was truly content.  But with reality comes your pitch black hand, wrapped around my neck as I try to breath whatever life I have left in me.

Although, in a way you are beautiful.  When you lie in bed next to me at night, I want to scream; I want to cry; I want to end this legacy of failure.  All because of you, and somehow I still fancy you a gift.  Why?  Because you make me appreciate whatever good I do have in my life.  When I see your aura in the streets, tied to others as they plaster their face with a sewn smile, I know that I am not alone.  I realize that you are eternal, in that everyone knows you.  Everyone feels you, and everyone is impacted by you.  Whenever something good happens, it is a direct result from the overcoming of you.  That is why you are great in some ways.  

So I apologize.  You can not have me now, nor could you ever.  I cannot engrave my wrists by your doing.  I cannot tie your noose around my throat.  I cannot swallow your pills to make my pain go away.  No matter how many times you visit me, you will not have me.  



              You will never have me.

   

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