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Array ( [sid] => 37518 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Daily Depression [time] => 2004-03-05 21:36:15 [hometext] => This is how my day went... *laughs* [bodytext] => It starts with boredom,
and grows from there.
I stab myself with a pen.
Sixteen times on the hand.
I feel better.

Then I grow even sadder.
When the people taunt me,
I’m still okay,
I don’t let it get me down.
It’s pretty stupid really.

Then feelings come
from no where.
They devour me,
memories come surging back,
throwing me into depression.

I go to lunch
and stand in line.
I hate the people there.
I want to hurt them.
They stare at me and
touch me.
I want to shove them,
push them way,
for they are too close.

I don’t even want to
joke with my friends,
though I do not want
to hurt them.
I just want to be left alone.

I do not eat my lunch.
I give it away.
I put my head on the table,
thinking dark thoughts.
My friends cheer me up,
in their own way.
I joke for a while,
maybe I’m even happy.

But it doesn’t last.
I start thinking more things.
I plan my suicide.
My friend gives me helpful tips.
I feel a little better...
only to sink again.

I walk to her locker,
and sink to the floor in a heap.
I want to get out;
I want to leave this building,
be free of all restrictions.
She understands,
and tells me I can leave if I want.
But I know I can’t really.
As much as I’d like to.

We set off and go to class.
I am immobile,
I’m to sad to move.
All I can do is sit
with my head in my hands.
We go to the back of the room,
for a study hall.

My friends and I sit together.
But inside I’m far away.
I think of all the ways to die,
I think of cutting a cross on my back,
and ripping out my spine.
My friend understands.
I rest my head on the desk,
eyes close.

I can’t bear it anymore.
I need to escape as much as I can.
I ask for her pencil
and stab at my fingers.
The stinging feels good.
But it doesn’t help enough.
My inner pain is still there.
I cry inside.

I feel there is nothing I can do.
So I sit there,
thinking my thoughts,
dying inside,
hoping someday this will end. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 169 [topic] => 13 [informant] => WorthlesSanity666 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
Daily Depression

Contributed by WorthlesSanity666 on Friday, 5th March 2004 @ 09:36:15 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry



It starts with boredom,
and grows from there.
I stab myself with a pen.
Sixteen times on the hand.
I feel better.

Then I grow even sadder.
When the people taunt me,
I’m still okay,
I don’t let it get me down.
It’s pretty stupid really.

Then feelings come
from no where.
They devour me,
memories come surging back,
throwing me into depression.

I go to lunch
and stand in line.
I hate the people there.
I want to hurt them.
They stare at me and
touch me.
I want to shove them,
push them way,
for they are too close.

I don’t even want to
joke with my friends,
though I do not want
to hurt them.
I just want to be left alone.

I do not eat my lunch.
I give it away.
I put my head on the table,
thinking dark thoughts.
My friends cheer me up,
in their own way.
I joke for a while,
maybe I’m even happy.

But it doesn’t last.
I start thinking more things.
I plan my suicide.
My friend gives me helpful tips.
I feel a little better...
only to sink again.

I walk to her locker,
and sink to the floor in a heap.
I want to get out;
I want to leave this building,
be free of all restrictions.
She understands,
and tells me I can leave if I want.
But I know I can’t really.
As much as I’d like to.

We set off and go to class.
I am immobile,
I’m to sad to move.
All I can do is sit
with my head in my hands.
We go to the back of the room,
for a study hall.

My friends and I sit together.
But inside I’m far away.
I think of all the ways to die,
I think of cutting a cross on my back,
and ripping out my spine.
My friend understands.
I rest my head on the desk,
eyes close.

I can’t bear it anymore.
I need to escape as much as I can.
I ask for her pencil
and stab at my fingers.
The stinging feels good.
But it doesn’t help enough.
My inner pain is still there.
I cry inside.

I feel there is nothing I can do.
So I sit there,
thinking my thoughts,
dying inside,
hoping someday this will end.




Copyright © WorthlesSanity666 ... [ 2004-03-05 21:36:15]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Daily Depression (User Rating: 1 )
by Sweet-Poison on Saturday, 6th March 2004 @ 09:11:07 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
I've read a few of your poems, though I feel I can relate to this one a great deal.. I have emotions almost identical to how you write yours here.. Great poem, T'is always nice to read something I can relate to.. Well done =)




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