another sad complaint

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
there is not much to explain. a horribly written poem by the one and only.

Submitted: June 17, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 17, 2016



My depression is not a crutch.

It is my kidnapper. 

It is the expired milk I have drinken which leaves me sick.

It is the restless nieghbor that never turns down his T.V.

My depression holds me hostage, leaving me tired as it spreads throughout my body 

Breaking me piece by piece.

Friends and family help by encouraging me to go out and visit friends.

Maybe go to get-togethers or better yet - parties

But my depression likes to have its own parties, dragging me to every single one.

It has its own friends and always makes sure to send out invitations.

Anxiety and insomnia come skipping through the door.

I am stuck sitting, listening to the sound of my empty chest as anxiety holds me close and

insomnia flirts with me.

Eventually, the party will die down, but it never completely end. 

My depression plans for the next big party.

It reminds me I am the guest of honor and I shall not be late.

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