Depression

a Poem by Raquel Swann

Such a comfortable bed.

Why should I rise from it?

What’s better than staying here

watching movies?

Is there anyone or anything worth seeing?

Funny how these happy endings make me feel empty inside.

I can barely recall when the brisk night air outside gave me life.

Or the jubilant screams of children at the beach made me smile.

I stopped answering my phone long ago. Now it doesn’t ring anymore.

Even a depressing post on FB doesn’t get much attention.

Don’t remember what it feels like to laugh.

There are no tears the tanks are empty.

You know, this bed really isn’t THAT comfy.

As I go to my window, a shooting star blasts across the sky.

It must be meant for someone else.

I lie back down and wait for the next movie to start.

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One Comment

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