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Personal Piece- Contains upsetting material - First time poet, who didn't know it.
So I posted this in my member journal but now I feel like I want other people to read it. I wrote this when I was in a bad place. In a way it might really help you verbalise your depression and know that you aren't alone.
Depression is a house,
where the chairs
have forgotten how to hold you.
Where the mirrors,
have forgotten how to reflect you.
Where the walls,
have forgotten how to contain you.
Depression is a house,
where no-one can protect you.
Where the doors no longer,
let you in or out.
Just trapped, buried you
deep into the ground.
Depression is a house,
that can disappear,
or reappear
at the slightest gust of wind.
The foundations crumble,
shatter, fall, crash and burn.
Depression is a house,
a run down, messed up house
that's invisible to everyone.
A lonely old house,
with a ghost of who
you used to be, wandering.
Lost.
Depression is a house,
that you are forced to own.
A burden of a house,
that you can't afford to keep anymore.
Draining you of everything.
Until you're worn out, given up.
Depression is a house,
that's in the middle of a storm,
in your brain with your thoughts
thinking, living, breathing, seeing, remember.
Can't take it.
Depression is my house.
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