I haven't shown this poem to anyone i know (except my tutor) as it is my private thoughts on depression. The fact i have very little education is also a factor; i'd be embarrassed to show my lack of finesse! I'd be interested to see if anyone can identify with my ramblings though, so here goes:
Gathering in shadows, waiting, breeding.
Cramming the emptiness clutter allows.
Dark tendrils gaining strengh, wanting, needing.
Brooding thoughts the best library to browse.
Solitary nights a cradle to nurture.
Weary days a playground to flirt.
An army of arms send out their searcher.
Victim weakening, a mind to convert.
Surrounded by vines the windows tarnish.
Bleak lonely landscapes confuse the view.
Laughter and love become just a varnish.
As memories accustom to the hue.
While vetchlings flourish on the arid grounds.
Strobing figures play out a morbid mime.
Disabled and deafened by silent sounds.
Chalky orbs of hope promise to end time.
But in dreams vivid colours do run.
Each morning a small fragment left behind.
Through a kaleidoscope espied the sun.
Each shard a promise of life there to find.
The choice this time is not to let them win.
Is taking your life the ultimate sin?