#depressedpoets

[heybabeitsjanefromthepharmacy]

So the world becomes a hopeless out of reach thing again. I tried to leave and got pushed back in. There isn’t enough call centres in the world to account for every second I spend lonely and desperate and sad and sitting on hold. I think about every time someone hangs up and spends the following night or day in a hospital bed because it’s the next best phone they could ring.

No one wants me to leave and I don’t want to leave but no one wants to put the work in either. Makes me feel like a burden when the eyes keep wandering and the mouths stop questioning my okayness. Makes me realise that it’s easy to lie but harder to carry afterwards. These things which I hold onto are like stones and the weight is immensely pressuring.

Until the world becomes a hopeless out of reach thing again and I get pushed back in.

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

This page was brought to you by ✨️trauma✨️ and if you like my poetry or it helps you to feel understood then you'll see that there can truly be good in anything, I long to make others feel less lonely.

[poemstolove]

"Pretty strange, right? It'd have been really cool too though. XD But to be honest, I can practically feel the impending death of my Poetry in this stanza. I can not compose my strange poems without strange feelings to guide them. I've been fighting a long battle and it seems to be coming to a fitting end. Without sadness, without melancholy, without guilt, without anger, I don't really know what would fuel my poems. Most probably nothing. And it'll all come to an end." . Third stanza, "Awkward Dream". . If you want to share your poems and get featured on this page, message me your poem and I'll post it if it suits the page. . #poem #poetry #poemstolove #awkward #dream #awkwarddream #love #sweet #sweetdream #heart #smile #smiles #icecream #dream #dreams #lovepoem #lovepoetry #poet #lovepoet #death #depressedpoet #baddream #cemetery https://www.instagram.com/p/B6tfj9Ml-Dg/?igshid=1vrs7sbmx6y0s

[de4dp0et]

what am i supposed to answer at ‘wyd’? like,’oh, not much, just writing poetry and pretending that im the depressed french actress in the early 60s who’s smearing her blood-red lipstick all over her lips making it really askew in the broken mirror, dressed in black satin dress, crying with wine in her hand, just got her heart broken in the most brutal way possible haha, and wyd?’

[leahheartdiane]

Comeback (?)

It’s here again,

This indescribable, untamable,

and untraceable misery

Like a venom, rippling through my system

 Can’t tell anybody

Can’t add up to their concerns again

It’s horrible — causing them distress;

Raising red flags

 I think it’s best

To hide my pain in silence,

Conceal them thru feigned joy,

and cover them behind curtains of laughter  

 Yeah

Sounds pathetic

But that’s the way it works

Showing them I’m fine;

Faking my comeback

#Poetry #DepressedPoet

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Red Flags:

Im sure I've got plenty of red flags,

But I'm really not that bad

I've just got lots of blood I've soaked up from the wear and tear of the world cutting through my soul.

And if you knew what the flags once were, white flags waving surrender

out to the cold dark world

Watched it swallow me whole

So now I've got all these red flags.

Call them a mark of bad habits, I have tried to erase.

But blood leaves stains.

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

I Don't Feel, My Feelings Arent Real:

Alone like a body with no life...

Empty, dead, stabbed by a knife..

Emotional wounds right in the heart..

Lacerations and deep cuts pulling me apart.

These "exaggerations"..

of my lacerations...

Of whatever helps people feel..

I feel nothing "real"

They'll say it's not in your deck of cards to meet the mark..

And that's the second counterpart..

To call my "bluff" that my life is rough...

And so I'd rather not live it at all.

You can't even come at my beckon call...

So maybe a life's not worth living at all and that's what I say...

Much to their dismay..

It's all just "seeking attention".

Even though I show all reasons if only they would listen...

Why don't you, if you want to, if you hate your life that bad?

You must not really be that sad!

It's all an "act"...

From my real life problems they subtract..

Just look on the bright side.

Your mental health takes you for a ride...

And anytime you say it's showing signs people say "that's an explanation but not an excuse"

So what's the use?

Speaking of wounds no one can see...

When I needed someone other than me...

I'm left alone...

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Duct Tape:

There must be something covering up my lips..

Lean down, grab a cup, and try and take some sips...

But it all pours out on my new blouse...

Seeping in the fabric the story of how nothing gets in and I can't speak out.

Because speaking out or trying to talk about...

These things that bother me and cause me to nitpick and even want to shout..

Shout it loud, just to get it out..

Are met with silence and no change....

And then this feeling that eats at me creeps up my entire body and leaves me feeling strange.

I've become no more than a mannequin in a room..

I try to speak but, to whom?

It feels like the same story over and over.

And I try to change my luck in the yard picking a clover..

Hoping maybe something will be different this time..

Maybe something can change my mind..

Or you for that matter..

I put my feelings on a platter...

Just for you and the world to take and shatter...

Or just disregard them in the end.

It seems I never win..

Because I start getting upset about the feelings I have inside...

But anytime I try to speak, my voice likes to hide.

And it's not actually that I'm not speaking at all..

But who listens to my call?

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

In Memory:

What happens to us when we go?

If no one's here to remember us, where do we go?

Where do we go if not alive in memory?

And if I passed away would you still remember me?

Because time is ever fading..

And drifting in the wind..

You know how it goes..

Somewhere between here and then..

And as the clock keeps spinning..

I want to get it right..

If I could rewind time, and do it over a thousand times..

I wonder if I'd still take..

or make the same damn..

stupid mistake..

Mistake after mistake after mistake

I wonder if we truly grow through what we go through..

Because you know I'd love to...

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Wall:

I'm pushing with force against a wall

I know will never move...

Getting mad the wall's a wall...

Impliable

I let tears fall

And I slam my face..

Against these bricks.

Throw my fists, throw my kicks..

And I wish things could change..

But it's not in my line of strength

And I could never..

Tear down this wall..

And see you behind it all...

Because I know in my rise and fall..

That it's all me...

Ruining the peace.

So if I were able to throw down this wall..

After all..

Would I see myself in a mirror's reflection..?

Think to myself; It's funny how we cope with rejection..

By pushing people away..

By wanting people to change and saying if they never do..

They never cared too...

About me or you.

When it's not your fault a wall's a wall..

But you're the wall, last of all.

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Daring To Love:

My tears fell...

As if collecting water from the well,

of my heart..

When it seems my world is falling apart.

I say: "I knew this would happen from the start.."

Because the one thing that's familiar and true.

Are people who push me away, as they do.

So I'm constantly wondering if I need to catch myself from a fall.

Should I catch myself once and for all?

Or should I continue on a seemingly-never-ending loop of love always going wrong.

Catch me on the sound wave of the next love song...

When things dared to go right.

Did I lose my sense of sight?

Of being able to catch myself when I fall down too?

Will I become blindsighted by you?

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Two faced:

She said "Dont expect better because I'll never change"

I said "that's quite strange..

for a person of your age.."

No apologies, nothing to say..

She said "Take me or leave me cause this is how I'll stay.."

I said "I really don't like ya if that's how you'll remain..."

Now I have nothing left to gain..

from the likes of you..

No more feeling this sense of blue..

Get out of my way, I have better things to do..

Better people to pursue, none the likes of you.

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Reincarnate:

and then like the night,

I took silent refuge in the smell of a light, perfume scent,

I'd long forgotten about, lord knows where it went,

Wafting over my head at will,

Then time sat still..

Until I got a hint..

of time once spent...

Wondering where that life went..

By the smell of a former perfume scent...

A previous spray,

much to my dismay...

Whose scent is this?

But what's lemon citrus bliss...

to damper ones happiness...?

and suddenly I was drifting off to somewhere else..

A memory perhaps?

but I couldn't tell you from where or when..

Maybe somewhere between here and then?

Caught between the points from A to Z...

Of many reincarnations of me..

Perhaps I never have slept or never really sleep..

But will continue to live lives on repeat...

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Rose Tinted Glasses:

Well she had rose tinted glasses

And a lipstick stained lit cigarette.

But she didn't have empathy

Because empathy was a sympathy you could only have if you knew a heart ache.

And her heart went to a family

What a cold calamity...

Her husband went off with another miss..

It left a stale taste in the mouths..

that spoke the pain that had been dealt out.

A cat was left chasing the mouse...

Around an unkept house... collecting dust.

And she wondered if she could even trust..

this fate that she knew..

It almost turned her blue..

The way these things can do..

As her life almost left her, with her weight,

a sad fate, of someone who only ever dared to love.

Then her son's were buried deep under a pile of dirt.

Six feet under ground.

She would chase the earth back around..

if meant she could only see their faces.

And sorrow fills her as her son's cancer did, filled his body, before he went.

Tragedies do as tragic does.

Paint a bed sheet with some blood.

All because someone dared to take a pill, to help to stop taking pills, if you will.

I still wonder where that mattress went tainted red and with cigarette holes in the fabric...

And this tale is one no one knows well.

Unless they've known of worldly hell.

That tragedies do as tragic as they will.

And everyone stifled the feeling of another...

Who was left by her one and only mother.

Then was left also by her lover, as suggested by his mother.

And I still don't understand it all...

Watch the dominoes as they fall...

And everything all comes crashing down one after another...

Another lover gives a show, she's thinking he'll have love to show but all he gives is twisted words and lies...

behind his fake faces, a tragic fate is in store..

He did drugs before, he thought: "What's a little more?"

A little more till hes lost it all, watch these dominoes as they fall, but he'll blame anyone he can to make himself seem right.

Could you see the bright red lines on her arm?

Cause she thought he had the charm...

Only weeks ago he's yelling, screaming, running out the door.

But she's been left before and she figured what's a little of being left some more?

In a hospital bed, she cant get him off her mind,

wondering why he never had the time.. of day

But he's off chasing promises he never kept wondering why his wife left...

But he'll blame her until his end of days

Then a new flower starts to bloom.

Can you see the smiles on their faces too?

After all is dark and dead, they need to get it in their head, that beautiful things can come from darkness too.

From ash to ashes of cigarettes and crematory scenes, a flower bloomed.

So new life comes from the end of something too.

Watch those flowers bloom.

[thedepressedpoetwhodidntshowit]

Self Love:

I fell but then I caught myself, for once it was me, and I looked up and felt safe, as my own refuge.

In my own arms I held myself and I knew I would then love myself harder. I will give myself the love I always felt I had to seek from someone else.

I'm telling my inner child that "It will all be okay."

That's what I always wanted someone else to say..

And I waited for that silent hero to come every day...

I held out hope, he or she would arrive and carry me to safety.

I felt as if this hero must exist, had to be real, I thought, they have to be.

But today I know it was never between them and me.

Or another person, a he or she.

There was no one else here most of the time and I waited in agony for what felt like forever, I don't remember, adding months onto years?

And I didn't count the tears..

That I shed as I screamed internally..

Hoping maybe there was a he or she..

A hero that could help me.

And I prayed to God and I asked him why he made me into me.

Asked him what was wrong, if there was a right way, or something else I needed to be.

And I begged and I pleaded, sometimes on one knee.

Or I would get on two legs, if I had it I'd even get on three...

But as I screamed.

My tears still streamed.

Full of fear.

Just a ghost of me.

And I whispered to myself today, it's going to be okay..

Now I'm here for you today..

And in a sort of poetic way..

I felt the tears build more..

And I knew I had grown or loved myself harder than ever before..

Because in the end it was never up to a them.

No hidden he or she..

It was always up to me.

[poemstolove]

"A bad dream, huh? Well, I could've written a whole poem for this dream too. But... I don't know. My motivation to keep composing new poems is... dying. Because their purpose is to express things I feel to whoever the poems are composed for. And there are not really that many people I want to write poems for. I don't want my words to die. Because they're all I have got. But if you don't give air to the flame, it's gonna die whether it wants it or not. This may very well be one of the last poems I'd be composing. Was good while it lasted, if not the best. Still not sure about anything really, but I can feel the death of the Poet up close. Just saying." . Second stanza, "Awkward Dream". . If you want to share your poems and get featured on this page, message me your poem and I'll post it if it suits the page. . #poem #poetry #poemstolove #awkward #dream #awkwarddream #love #sweet #sweetdream #heart #smile #smiles #berserk #dream #dreams #lovepoem #lovepoetry #poet #lovepoet #depressedpoet #baddream #never https://www.instagram.com/p/B6jDUQ8Fpkq/?igshid=dhfrghnd9ttu