he would drink and drink until he couldn't think i know it sounds sad but i was kinda glad when he passed out on the couch i wouldn't have to listen to ..........
i look into your eyes, but see nothing there. what happened to the love, that we use to share? i reach out for your hand, and it feels so cold. what ..........
life frozen or caught on fire, why does it matter? cut deep or shallow scratch, in narrow alleys with a patch of darkness. falling up or getting ..........
here i am. cant you see me? i don't hate you anymore, i'm sorry. i sit here all alone, grieving, drowning in disbelief. just look at me. tell me you ..........
some old friends cross paths sometime in their life, but some never do. sad but true! if our way of life separates us through time, you never know what ..........
when i look into the mirror it's not me i see there is an older woman looking back at me i don't know where she came from and i don't know why she's there i ..........
r eyes in her eyes, she's been hurt by people who she thought she could trust... in her eyes, she thought those same people would last forever. for these ..........
she goes about her day to day and does her duties to perfection, she cries alone and works her way through fears and self rejection. no one knows this ..........
“Depression
is nourished by a lifetime of ungrieved and unforgiven hurts.”
Is a depression quote that sings so true. Like
sad poems, we have our favorite
songs or literature that we read or listen to overcome our
depression. The daily stressors of life are overwhelming for
everyone at times. Depression poetry can be the inspiration
needed to move forward when all other resources have been
exasperated. Writing your way out of depression often times is
the antidote to allowing it to take over your life. Depression
poems are an avenue for one to freely express what their
emotions have long been wanting to express from their soul.
Depression poems allow one to introspect
and let emotions flow through pen and paper. Sadness from
lost love or
death of a loved one can hinder
resilience and ability to handle with daily stressors because of
depression. Such poetry can help break one free from
depression’s shackles.
In teen life
there is many lost love and
sad love and one will find
teen life poems, affected by depression, where it challenges
their creativity and tends to go within one’s self. In doing so
one begins to question everything.
Sad teen poems that speak of life’s struggles allow them to
introspect and let their emotions flow.
Depression poems can break away
isolationist feelings and help one self to conquer their mixed
emotions. Such emotions that can grasp a person and cripple
every aspect of their life, depression poetry can aid the mind
and help better understand what the source of the melancholy is
coming from.
Depression can paralyze and drain us, making it a very real and dangerous illness. Depression is not easily described when there are so many forms that can ale us. In every aspect of life, depression may challenge our lives. There is so much going on in this world that it becomes too overwhelming with stress and struggles life, seemingly generously gives us. Statistics say that approximately 18.8 million America adults are affected by clinical depression this year. So how can one deal with the overwhelming effects of betrayal, loneliness, and everyday aggravations in life, along with many other forms of depression? Depression eventually will distract us from our daily activities, leaving the allusion of being alone, even when there is a world of people around going about their own life’s trials. Poetry has been ranked as a top form of therapy and is an avenue for the seemingly impervious emotions, eagerly wanting a way out to relieve us of the burdens we hold.
“Depression is a confused and hopeless state that drives people to desperate lengths. All I can say is don’t be afraid to talk about it and try to be open if others are trying to reach out.”
That second day of kindergarten, I ditched
while Miss Clemens bent at the sink,
helping Peter Farley wash the paint off his hands.
I scurried across the wide green fields that led
to the road where our row
of white townhouses awaited me.
I wanted no more days without my mother
placed in the center of every hour.
I wanted her voice, the scent of the perfume
she dabbed on her writst each morning
before we watched my father walk away.
We stood at her dresser while she released
the stopper from a crystal bottle so blue
it rivalled sunlight staining the ocean surface.
I wanted to travel with her
from supermarked to bank, dry cleaners
to drugstore, wherever the days life took her.
As if sensing some hunger to come,
I craved her with a fierceness that made me run,
as if knowing I would soon lose her to a sadness
vaster than any of these fields I could cover
with the pace of my own feet.
