He cried for help using a silent cord
but silent cries always get ignored,
he couldn't remember how life rewards
and from his eyes the tears then poured.
He ran away from life because he became scared
but he ran into the wild and he stands impaired,
with too much time passed since he last cared,
in this isolation he thinks how better he's faired.
He realised the run from people guided him here,
but he now wishes people were somewhere near,
stuck still in this spot on his lonesome chair,
now thinking that unsighted decision was unfair.
Supressed anger created this mental cage
and out of practice his mind won't engage,
without exercise he's to weak to turn the page
and there are no steps leading up to the stage.
They say a man's got to do what a man's got to do,
but what does a man do when he hasn't got a clue?
When there are no thoughts in his brain left to choose,
when he's lost it all and yet there's more to lose.
He's a prisoner to depression and all its dark forces,
cornered with one card and it requires endurance,
survive and get lucky or die of natural causes,
avoid the actions of suicide are of the most importance.
Sometimes all you can do is survive,
and hope for the day of the changed tide,
sometimes all you can do is survive,
it's a certain death if you move so just hide.
The weeks pass by with the outlook bleak,
everyday he weakens, he feels completely beaten,
the adult with special needs that no curriculum can teach,
sinking deeper into his own mind in an act of retreat.
Lonely with only his own thoughts reality's out of reach,
dehydrated, yet he weeps to himself letting tears leak,
each drop releases anguish this reality's no beach,
drops his head in his hands where there's no light to seek.
Continuously sinking into a reluctant isolation,
he wonders why to give a f*ck with no reason to care,
thankful for his loneliness because it hides humiliation,
staying in his hiding because no options appear.
Staying still for now thinking it's safe right here
but all the while his thinking clarity disappears,
driven to numbness in a world that knows no fear,
a far distance from pleasure and all is unclear.
Inside him he can feel flurries of powerful fury
and curiosity that come and go in a hurry,
bringing to life short lived waves of bravery,
then supressed by depression, owner of mental slavery.
Paired with anxiety he's a panic attack liability,
retracted social skills detach him from society,
to get by he hides his mind in shadows of a cave,
waiting and hoping one day they'll come and save.
Scared but angry with past ways that he's behaved,
people in his life benefitted from attention he gave,
time was spent on selfless actions and never returned,
forgotten through distractions, those bridges burned.
People only ever watch out for their own backs,
a selfish key attribute to survival but a fact.
You can't hate people because of how they act,
suddenly there's a light shining out of the black.
This revelation makes timid a little of his frightened
only he can save himself with a fight to the end,
be brave in life by turning the unsighted bend
knowing only on himself can he truly depend.
Sometimes all you can do is hide,
sometimes it's the only way to survive,
sometimes feelings rise up inside,
when they do it's time to fight, keep them alive.
At present a blank page starting fresh like a child
trying to climb back up this bottomless spiral,
a need to learn quickly, he's adapted to the wild,
facing a fairytale comeback to be done in style.
But he's been sat in hiding for oh so long,
and he has been getting decisions wrong,
he knows now that he needs to be strong,
there is no time to waste, no time to mong.
He can't change the fact he didn't act sooner,
but he's not prepared to be depressions prisoner,
freedom a distance even for a strong warrior,
get it wrong now and it's a trip to the coroner.
At this time he lacks key attributes and skills,
this contributes to getting lost through valleys and hills,
sweating in the heat, in the cold he feels the chills
but determined to break free the only way he feels.
Life can be nasty and life can be cruel,
drive's nothing if you haven't enough fuel,
leave it too late and you've no chance at all,
you'll weaken over time and can't win the duel.
He can feel the pain as every bone inside creaks,
mentally blind wrong turns and starts to climb a wall,
but half way up his muscles ache, just too weak,
can't pull himself up nor hold on.. to his death he does fall.
He'd have been strong enough had he been more clinical
and acted sooner, not sat around hoping for a miracle.
So hiding from depression should be kept to a minimal,
be active and fight so you can use your full potential.
You're not the first to live this depression tale,
I lived it too, I didn't do well, you feel but are not a fail
and it only gets harder to come out of that shell,
you can survive, know, others have escaped this hell.
To paraphrase Winston Churchill
"Never give in to the overwhelming might of what burdens,
you can survive depression but you will never return from suicide".
"Go out today and do something random that you'd never normally do..... anything".
- 39 Views
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Український (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)