Soul Without a Body

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is what depression feels like.

Submitted: November 17, 2011

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Submitted: November 17, 2011

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A haunting phantom—

It comes, numbering my days

It feels like time is still but

Really I’m just wasting it

Whether lying down or sitting I am confined

And my body starts to atrophy—

At least that’s what it feels to me

I can’t find comfort in sleep, knowing

I may not make it to morning

My thoughts are charred pieces of my skull

My blood is icy slush in my veins

And my future is night without a moon nor a star

Besides a heartwarming story or a sad, sad song

This is the only time when my face is pushed flat

Flatter until I burst at the eyes

And drops of salt drip across my temples

The same rain floods my nostrils

And my lips curl upward as if to say, “Help me.”

But all they do is quiver and bare my teeth

Because my voice is a phantom itself

And can only moan and further haunt me

There are people in adjoining spaces, but I am alone

Yet when I think about them, gravity is lifted

And my body begins to repair itself

But even when I’m warm again

The ghost remains, everlasting

Waiting to make me a soul without a body

It stays just below me, like a boogeyman under my bed

Until I open myself to it once more

So I can see my final hour

Like I should


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