The Beast

An acrostic poem.

Deep within, I feel the frigidness of The Beast

Eternally, it makes of my happiness, a feast.

Pieces of myself wither under its deathly grip;
Ripped and torn, I struggle to continue on this trip.

Everlasting is my sorrow and incessant are my fears,
Storm clouds are destined to follow me for years.
Still, I trudge on and shield myself ineptly,
It mocks my weakness and assails my heart directly.
On a blood-soaked battlefield, The Beast and I must meet,
No amount of strength and might can save it from defeat.

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

A very engaging acrostic, encompassing quite effectively the struggle with depression. Thanks for sharing.

[Elizabeth]

This is a great depiction of what depression does to those who have it, and the battle they must fight with it.

[Travis]

Thank you for your review! That was the message I was hoping to convey, so I'm glad you liked it.