The Depression Machine

Rain pounding on the window
Means words flow from the pen
Like tears in the silence of night
That stop when I say when

These four-line stanzas serve
As paths for my wayward thoughts
That crawl and sway and bend
With hollow smiles all tied in knots

If angst could build a stairway
And sadness pave a dusty road
I'd walk straight back into Hades
And reap the pain my words have sowed

Verses like fire rage through my head
Played on violin for the mourners
Who lurk like unwanted syllables
In the darkest forgotten corners

It doesn't flow nor feel right
And I don't want to go on
But something drags me through
The murky depths of night to dawn

Sun shining on the balcony
Means words dance inside my head
And shoot down through my feet
Right out the soles and up ahead

It seems the golden rays and
Salty waves can't cure this plague
That kills all mirth and makes us pay
In nightmares spun from dreams so vague

Happiness doesn't pay the bills
When words are so in demand
And it's easier this way, so much
Easier to keep falling and never land

So chop, chop, chop this up
And feed it to the machine
Where sorrows become currency
And light is squeezed between.

Author's Note

This is about how easy it is to stay depressed, and to keep coming up with reasons not to even bother trying to climb out. In my case, I liked being able to write sad, aching poetry. Depression is like a machine, and you're just going through the motions when you're caught in it.

Reviews

[IAmGhost120]

Really angst, but really relatable. I feel like this a lot - what's the point of being happy when it gets you pretty much nowhere? I especially loved the last two stanzas. If I were you, though, I'd be ecstatic - your style of writing is amazing!! Take comfort in the fact that you have such a brilliant gift!!

[December Blaize]

Thank you so much; this means a lot to me. Don't worry though; I'm not depressed anymore... still fighting every now and then but overall quite happy. I wrote this as sort of a reflection, to say to myself and everyone reading this that this is real, this is what it really feels like for people. I had to look at the past to write this poem, and it was a lot like dissecting another person.