Sometimes depression makes me feel like I’m living out someone else’s life because one minute i have a strong head on my shoulders and the next day iw ake up forgetting that i even had stability for even a few minutes or that it felt like years ago.
It’s as though, I’m falling down and I’m screaming, but the waves are hitting me so hard that everytime I even attempt to stand up, my legs knock down beneath me.
I’d be lying
If I didn’t try
To tell you the truth
About wanting to lay down
Inside and stew
In my own grave
I’d be lying
If I spilt but didn’t cry
Whenever I needed to escape
This headspace cave
Built from nothing
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I’ve fallen in love with the shores because it’s waves remind me of the thoughts that come and go, invading everything that I am and believe in.
The weather can be so settle, but that doesn’t mean the tides won’t come and demolish everything you’ve built.
Posted in Uncategorized Tagged Depression, deteriating health, mental health, mental illnesses, poems, poetry, sadness, spilled ink, spilled words, writers, writing
Like a hotel, our bodies are being rented out temporarily I squander around for rooms that aren’t occupied but every spot is no longer vacant.
As I round the corners, slightly folded into eachother like a hospital bedsheet I realize that I don’t have Schitzophrenia but I have conversations with people who aren’t there
Are they? Maybe they’re all the versions of myself talking to people they used to know.
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