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"Dependable Friend"  12 - 21 - 02



i live my life by a depression

the pain is so, a gradual regression

live my life with no known sucession

driving me mad, instigating aggression

because i live with a damn obsession



why do i continue this existance

plaqued by an uncurable pestilence

living with the scraps of sustinence

dwelling on my past grievances

living life with no compliance



why did i not embrace the end

end the life, halt the mend

my reality contorts, wavers and bends

a pain so cruel, making no amends

i only exist for my friends



my depression lingers a thought

expensive item, compelling, to be bought

but i know this i cannot wrought

but now that i have the thought

i am forever trapped, i'm caught



now i must choose

life or the noose

what do i have to lose

my life, maybe, but whose

one to say I ever used (it)



so i am left to ponder

left alone and to wonder

through the thoughts, i wander

to and fro my wants meander

it is my conscience that i slander



so as i drift in tranquilt

try to attain a sleep

i am left with my quilt

and a lingering, hollow creep



i know even in my dark

i am not alone

for, i know, in my heart

he is there, laying prone



always there, the dependable friend

he is the one who consoles

it is my wounds, i think, he mends

plugs the voids in my soul



life goes on, i dream my dreams

accompanied, in thought, by he

it is a lost hope, it seems

always accompanied by the one who be...



The Regression,

Lost Hope Finder

The Obsession,

Eternal Reminder...



The dedicated man on a mission

I give you, my friends, Hollow D. Pression

Author's Notes/Comments: 

(was originally 'Hollow Depression"--looked better and gives more of a "name and face" to the personification of the poem. whaddya think??)

Some people don't understand the manic depressive person: why is it so hard for them to leave behind such a gloomy thing?? i've wondered this many times myself... why can't i just be happy?? I know the day it started, why it started, and i've lived with it now for some 6-7 years.... and there's the problem. i've lived with it for so long that I am afraid of anything else--i've forgotten what true happiness is. when someone has lived with something for so long, one learns to use it to its full advantage--i use mine for my poetry and would sorely miss it for that very reason, so, i do not wish to be happy. no matter what i've gone thru in life, my depression has always been at the bottom, waiting for me to come back down.... comforting me, consoling me, whispering the words i so wish to become actions.... i have the voices, distant and far above, who beg me not to do such a thing. so i am beaten to the ground, i cry and beg for the end, yet somehow, i still strive for the friends.

a life fueled by its demise

that is a paradox, my friends.

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last updated 11 October 2010 - 8:59pm
©7 May 2003 - 5:59pm — lillep
15 May 2003 - 12:54am — running_with_rabbits
running_with_rabbits's picture

I like it
I have felt this poem way too many times in my short yet long life

good job

ash

Much Love

Ashley