Depression is cruel.
If only it were always the valleys, then I may begin to value the rare peaks
To see them in the distance and think to myself that the journey might be nearing it's end
But depression is never only the lows,
It's filled with moments of granduer and joy
Periods of time that begin to feel like home
Like the darkness itself was only a dream
Like the fear I felt will remain nothing more
than traumatic memory
But that's never the case, is it dear brain?
You trick me into thinking that in happiness I've found my place
And just as the smile finds its familiar home upon my face you return
And you turn that happiness into disgrace.
No, depression is tumultuous, never settling in an emotion
the highs are sporadic, their expiration date unset
But I know that they will expire, and with that expiration comes the valleys once more
Where the sunlight is brief and the nights are cold
And it keeps me in its clutches just long enough to consider giving in
Before arriving on another mountain top once again.
And goodness the views are spectacular from heights only appreciated by those who scour the lowlands
Beholden is the glory of life in the light known only to those who familiarize the darkness
And I stay awhile upon that peak
Admiring the beauty displayed before me
Before depression causes a stumble
Quickly causing the Cliffside to crumble
And once again I find myself breathing in the darkness of my own mental hell.
Damn the depression, and those cursed to know it well.
YOU ARE READING
Incongruity
PoetryThis is where I will put my poems about my experiences. I just want somewhere to store them. If they resonate with someone, then I'm glad to have at least been a voice of familiarity in a world that feels so full of solidarity. Also I usually only w...
