meaningless.
i told my counsellor that "i didn't want to end up like my sister."
and after i released that thought from the darkness of my mind,
my tears came to comfort me,
and i realised something.
i cling onto depression, because it's all i know.
it's all i have.
i've grown up around sadness and hurt,
i don't know what it's like to be without the thoughts of pain
and memorise of destruction.
that being said,
of course i want to be happy.
of course i want to be happy.
i don't feel as if i can allow myself to be loved,
if i can barely look at myself anymore.
i miss the days of childish play,
of running about on a field, and writing with a crayon.
i miss drinking juice at lunchtime,
and making dasie chains for my mum.
and making dasie chains for my mum.
where did it all go?
and don't you fucking tell me that it's part of growing up.
because i know for a fact it's not.
this lingering sadness that intoxicates me like a bad friend,
should not be part of an innocent life.
i write this, to try and make a messy point.
that maybe, just maybe,
there is a chance of happiness,
if i just let go of the sadness.
👁 6💬 1
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (1)
Comments are closed for this poem.