Death, Welcome Me?

i can't describe the ambiguity of emotions when i wrote this.

I sensed the gloom of nightfall
There lied a tranquil paw on its shadow,
Slowly, stealthily taking my vigor.
There I stood wishing despite these,
Someone would heed my cry of solitude,
Wrap the arms around my frozen mortality,
And whisper that I am blessed, must be glad.
I am a woman, sweet but spun dull,
No one sees me the way I want to,
So it creeps, the sorrow creeps and slithers,
Death! Welcome me soon…so, goodbye.
 

Author's Note

this poem pictures my depression.

Reviews

[Jofer Serapio]

Pretty good work, you have here.
The personification of longing for someone could be worked on but it's all decent.
I mean, it wasn't the path you took so there's no love lost there.
All in all, it's a pretty involving and revealing write.
Kudos!

[Lyrical Love]

If you live you have felt the angst ofsorrow leading to depression in some form.
If you have loved and lost...
If you have given and not received...
If you can feel...
One good thing out of many is that the sun still rises every morning.

[Pax Analog]

Hmmm. . ."All You Need is Love" -- the impossible cheery Beatles classic tune leaps to mind.

Some good lines here, "cry of solitude," "frozen mortality," "sweet but spun dull."

I personally can relate strongly to the difficulties of despondency, tho' not to the point of romanticizing death. I suppose I stop short of that out of suspicion that one's conscious state continues post-mortem, and the idea of being even MORE despondent AND dead, is -- dare I say it -- depressing. ;-)

So, I deal with despondency (which in my case has to do with the gap between inner valuations and goals and the level of response from without) through acceptance. I don't glorify it. I don't suppress it. I just accept it and realize that the main reason I want to remain in this form a while longer is to set my inner/outer house right, because the best life is also the best preparation for death. If I can't manage to die gleeful, at least I will die with dignity, non-melodramatically.

So, obviously, art and one's existential condition are inseparable. And, indeed, the "cure" IS love. Not mere sentimentality, nor it's opposite, knee-jerk nihilism, but straight plain empathy, and then passion, once empathy is attained.