Converse Satiating

Converse Satiating



Contrary to literary consensus,

despair speaks clearly.

Anguish does not whine, scream, or whimper.

It speaks dull monotony;

blade barely able to cut butter.

Impossible, in fact, were it not

for the glowing heat buried within;

consuming all available energy,

taking finally the very spark of life;

a measure of human sighs



© Bart Breen 1/28/02 (revised)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A play on words in the title.  Depression is anger turned inward I've been told.  This poem is all too representative of what it feels like to isolate and supress anger.

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Richard Woldridge's picture

The voice of depression is often monotonous. Well said.