One in Three
Love and laughter may sprinkle around
With no real problems for you and me,
But we must always be aware of the fate
That will befall every one in three.
For our lives can change in a trice
When the world sends us a test,
To deal with tragedy, failure or loss
When we are forced to do our best,
To keep our chins up and smile
And face the world with fragile pride,
That may fool many, and maybe you
Until you realise you’re dying inside.
As a blackness so dark falls all over you
With no pinprick of light in your pit,
So you blunder about and don’t even try
Whilst every sinew begs you to quit,
And perhaps shuffle off this mortal coil
That right now seems most appealing,
For even if you do try to fight back
You’re overwhelmed by a darkest feeling.
Where has all this come from you ask?
But in truth you may never know,
How you are reduced to anxiety tears
And constant feelings of death and woe,
That will affect many now in their lives
As if have swallowed a depressive pill,
For you have become one in the three
Who learn the trauma to be mentally ill.
No heavy lectures from me, just my "poetic words"……
I see you struggle under the load
The world has decreed you must,
Carry and forever be burdened with
Until your flesh and bones are dust.
The withered look upon your face
Shows up the pain racked mask,
As you blunder on the road of life
Cowered by the impossible task
Of coming to terms with your woe,
Along with shame and deepest sorrow
That you and I know for sure
Will be just the same tomorrow!
What you may ask has fashioned this
To bring a strong person down?
Saddling him with crushing weight
And the wearing of a losers crown.
Well the answer to this is simple
And beware not to watch and judge,
The unfortunate stood before you
Whose guilt and ire wont budge.
For he suffers mental illness
Though his earlier times were kind.
But dark satanic thoughts and shapes
Now play havoc with his mind!
So he must project a physical norm
When clothed by harvests of depression.
That despite all his efforts and aims,
It only compounds regression.
Please look out for each other, love and care,
Am I Dead?
I guess I must be dead now
For I feel no pain, or a life.
And nothing touches me
To bring succour or more strife.
And I can’t see outside my box
That’s how confinement feels.
Locked in consuming darkness
Which my personality steals.
I look out with sightless eyes
Upon a blackness staring back,
Into my empty, void-like brain
That feels it must now crack,
From all this unseen pressure
Pushing me helpless to the ground.
And even if I can get up again,
No sanctuary will be found.
So am I dead then, I must ask?
But only echoes answer now,
For nothing outside gets in
As nobody will know how.
So then I must be dead
Trapped in my limbo state,
Suffocated and being crushed
By an entity I now hate.
Although a flicker of some hope
I may escape from my regression.
When hearing daunting words say,
I’m suffering from depression!
Thanks for indulging me my wonderful friends and you all take great care!