I watch me be this other thing and never know if I'm marooned or where the purple people go, then lily white matricide from vicious words, it doesn't leave a scratch so therefore no one's hurt.
Wednesday, 22 March 2017
Depression
Darkness feeds, not on flesh or folly, but the mind; deep down in the
crevices no one can see, between the folds and catacombs of our
interior. Why? Why do we allow the shadows to creep forth? Blistered,
enhanced and magnified, ten-fold simply from a conditioning. Conditioned
to not question, to follow orders, stand in lines… Rule after rule, we
all start to lose our mind or mend and bend to their every whim.
Labels:
depression,
mental health,
mental illness,
poem,
poems,
poetry