DeletedUser8396
Guest
I Feel It Knocking
I feel the depression knocking,
I hear it scratching at the door.
Pacing before my walls,
Waiting for me to let it in.
It tears away at my heart,
Though I don’t know its full force.
But I can tell something is coming,
And that its power is so great
The darkness' screams pierce the walls,
Deafening the long held joy.
I run under the covers,
Praying they’ll protect me in the night
Beating against the crumbling walls,
Its desire to enter is magnificent.
Such power in a single idea,
Forcing itself upon my mind.
I cannot keep it out for long,
But I cannot bear the weight it brings.
Stealing my time and life away,
To fix the walls it has broken.
It angers me, it pains me,
The constant war it rages forth.
A war too painful to fight,
But much greater is the pain of loss
It is a dry pain, a quiet torment,
Never a tear shed or word said,
Never a clue of the fight I endure-
As I cannot acknowledge the hurt.
To acknowledge it would grant power,
Would grant the depression a name.
I must keep its voice barred to my heart,
Not letting the others find out.
The depression stings and burns,
With every moment I resist,
But I cannot let down my guard,
Or I will succumb to its might.
My mind is its weapon against me,
And time my one defense,
Will I win out this time?
Or will my depression win once again?
I feel the depression knocking,
I hear it scratching at the door.
Pacing before my walls,
Waiting for me to let it in.
It tears away at my heart,
Though I don’t know its full force.
But I can tell something is coming,
And that its power is so great
The darkness' screams pierce the walls,
Deafening the long held joy.
I run under the covers,
Praying they’ll protect me in the night
Beating against the crumbling walls,
Its desire to enter is magnificent.
Such power in a single idea,
Forcing itself upon my mind.
I cannot keep it out for long,
But I cannot bear the weight it brings.
Stealing my time and life away,
To fix the walls it has broken.
It angers me, it pains me,
The constant war it rages forth.
A war too painful to fight,
But much greater is the pain of loss
It is a dry pain, a quiet torment,
Never a tear shed or word said,
Never a clue of the fight I endure-
As I cannot acknowledge the hurt.
To acknowledge it would grant power,
Would grant the depression a name.
I must keep its voice barred to my heart,
Not letting the others find out.
The depression stings and burns,
With every moment I resist,
But I cannot let down my guard,
Or I will succumb to its might.
My mind is its weapon against me,
And time my one defense,
Will I win out this time?
Or will my depression win once again?