When Art Becomes Too Much Work

To have emotional depth or to have stability?

When Art Becomes Too Much Work (1/31/12)

 

Prozac painted my mind like nail polish

Three coats and the surface was hidden

You became a print of a painting

But you were no longer bed ridden

Though you now lacked emotional depth

Crying of any kind was forbidden

 

The smiles blanketed the surface

But you could feel the chaos,

Like trying to be friends with a lover

An imperfection concealed with gloss

 

Do I want what I don’t have?

Do I have an unquenchable soul?

When it’s right it is wrong

Paradox takes its toll

I boycott the cure and

I resume the previous role

The polish chips away

The pills no longer patrol

I am free to cry and wonder why

Some of us never feel whole

 

-Katharine Dishron

Author's Note

If you met me I wouldn't be so depressing. Poetry is a huge outlet for my depression.

Reviews

[Derek Sparks]

Nice read. And I'm sure you are a nice person in real life. Writing is an outlet for myself as well. Anyways looking forward to reading more

[Rasputin]

I'm the exact wrong person to talk to about relieving/avoiding depression, but I still liked this piece. Antidepressants were never my thing, though. I always gravitated towards booze and hard drugs. But I'm glad you found a healthier outlet. Rock on.

[Babe Roxx]

Lovely...I can't really add on to your poem because it speaks for itself...depression is real, and I've been through it...always try to surround yourself with positive people and stay far away from toxic people. It helps.