Star Burn

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A very hard poem for me to convey a message through as it deals with my depression, a term that is still foreign to me. What happens everyday without fail...

Submitted: May 20, 2017

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Submitted: May 20, 2017



I know what's wrong... The inability to mend the problem, was the problem I know - how typical? Depression! A word with so many meanings Yet one only comes to mind Not an economic term nor Geographic but Almost similar A time or a hollow where something once filled Just as a hollow, dug with the mighty pen where happiness once filled.

Even this was a bother to write Not a spare moment to think, Only to think of the weight on my shoulders Not dissimilar to Atlas Not a spare moment to express myself, every tear shed is a minute Gone, even this was not without it's mental constraints.

The pressure bearing down, more often than not The gutters will begin to cave from the accumulated rust, Just an accident waiting to happen Every drop of sunshine that shone through the clouds was nothing but a charade A collapsed memory of a... ?

Something waited to break but that was not an option, never clear was the air nor the pages Not a stellar example...the Athena, strong and wise but to an unseen point of chaos and deterioration Restless days consumed me, one thing after the next What a shame? To almost die for something that May or may not matter Is that what's wrong? That can't be all - can it?

© Copyright 2018 Raé Evans. All rights reserved.

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