Depression (Poem)

Chapter 1


I fücking hate these anti depressants
Every morning, it’s fücking depressing
Still waiting for the day that I learn my lesson
I’m so slow, I’m just unimpressive
And I’m sick and tired of every appointment
Every week, every disappointment
Pointing fingers but it feels so pointless
And in that chair I feel so voiceless
I guess that I much prefer the sessions
Where my mind soars in all directions
Alone in my room, staring at the ceiling
Cause that’s the time when I know what I’m feeling
When I wish it was like the romanticized version
Where scars are healed by love’s excursion
Instead here I am as I descend
Desperately waiting for the end


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