Living with Depression

Living with depression, it makes me feel alone,

shadowed by a darkness, your life is not your own. 

Exhausted from the crying, my heart filled with much pain,

intense emotions, felt through each and every vein.

My body aches, as my thoughts flicker they are hazy,

worrying that people will perceive me to be crazy. 

Always feeling tired, my body wants to sleep,

as I take another nap, my eyes begin to weep. 

Everything seems grey, though I'm not sure why,

each and everyday I get back up and try. 

My colleuges haven't even the slightest clue,

I hide my emotions, it's something I just do. 

Not wanting to leave my home, I feel safer inside,

even from myself, I want to run and hide. 

Some days are harder than others, often scary too,

like I am possessed, what is it I should do? 

Feeling guilty on my family, how can I explain?

that the sadness I feel, has given me such pain. 

Loosing the will in everything and who I am,

people they see me as the happy, smiley Sam.

Battling the struggles of my own mind, 

some kind of peace, is what I aim to find. 

It's been apart of me from an early age,

no diagnosis or refferel, to scared to reach that stage.

Destructive behaviour, no sense of control,

this has started, to really take its toll.

As the years pass by, the feelings they intense, 

not sure how long, I can keep up the pretence. 

Feeling like my partner doesn't understand, 

my heart it sinks, faster than quick sand. 

I feel guilty on my kids, it's not their fault I am sick,

hoping these emotions don't cling to them and stick.

I dream of the day, the cloud will start to clear,

be rid of this darkness, I'm living in the fear. 

I still go to work, though it is difficult to function,

feeling that events are some sort of conjunction. 

I try to paint a smile, I convince myself I'm ok,

this how I live my life, it is in me everyday. 

It's not easy nor is it nice, feeling out of place,

avoiding those demons, I know that I must face. 

Despair turns into desperation as I try to reach out, 

I'm just not feeling me, there's no need for you to shout. 

It hurts me too to think I am to blame,

I know there are others, who are feeling the same.

People who don't suffer, I hope they understand,

I'm reaching out, please take hold of my hand. 

You could say I've become a victim, that much may be true, 

It is difficult to see the obvious, when you're feeling blue. 

Or that I'm troubled, shut the door if you will,

there will come the day, when my mind will be still. 

No one likes to be down or feeling depressed,

like most of humanity, we are some way suppressed. 

I can't look to the material world, to give me a quick fix,

Nor drugs, money, or sex, these are old tricks. 

I pray to a god, I don't believe in, on the darkest days,

to free me of this torture and my depressive ways.

To open up my heart, heal me of the hurt,

pick me up gently, when I'm feeling like dirt. 

Or for someone to hold me and tell me it's ok,

that I'm not insane, because I'm feeling this way. 

For a greater sense of purpose, that goes beyond the physical dimesion,

i'm being kept in this state, living in suspension. 

Just to wake up, with the feeling I'm at ease,

not worrying about, the people I'm trying to please. 

Or about my mistakes, or times that I've been wrong,

only focussing on building, myself up to be strong. 

I guess I need a break, just some kind of rest, 

distracted from the daily grind, I really try my best. 

I am not a bad person, though I've done bad things,

my heart it bleeds and hurts so much it stings. 

As I ponder in my thoughts, I feel no sense of being,

is there anyway of me ever seeing?

I've hidden for so long, tried to escape it's wicked ways,

but in my heart it resides, this is where it stays. 

My mood can alter quickly, without me even knowing, 

what signs am I missing? What clues are they showing? 

Lost in the abyss, trying to find the other end, 

I just don't think I can, live on and pretend. 

That I am ok, portraying myself as being fine, 

the last time I done this, my cure became wine. 

Or other destructive behaviours, desperate to fill in the void, 

constantly running from me, and the truth that I avoid.

Not writing for sympathy, or any kind of attention,

releasing from this state, is the root of my intention. 

I've been labelled before, in the past,

rumours never fade, they tend to always last. 

Though it's not important, you are not me, 

there's no way of you knowing, how difficult it can be. 

Pull yourself together, I've heard this once before,

you may as well have kicked me, kicked me to the floor. 

For your ignorance is bliss, to ignore someone's plea,

making it more difficult for people like me. 

I feel bad that others suffer, to things where they have no choice, 

I want to find the real me, I'm yet to hear her voice. 

I hope this poem will be useful to other sufferers - S x