49.3K results
Deviations49.3K
Depression Isn't Real by MikkiMarie, literature
Literature
Depression Isn't Real
Depression isn’t true, my dear
Depression isn’t real.
It’s just a silly tragedy
You’ve forced yourself to feel.
Anxiety is fake, my friend
You wonder why it’s there.
But others have it worse than you!
Stop forming false despair.
Cutting is dramatic, love,
It’s ugly, and it’s dumb.
Why not just get over it?
Is the attention fun?
Suicide is stupid, dear,
And selfish, if I may.
Get over yourself, darling,
Can you hear these things I say?
Why aren’t you replying, love?
Oh, where could you have gone?
I never meant to hurt you, love,
Did I say something wrong?
Why aren’t you replying, dear
Therapists, I don't like their taste. by DearPoetry, literature
Literature
Therapists, I don't like their taste.
i.
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
ii.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
iii.
inexperienced,
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
iv.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through
Depression is an Option by MikkiMarie, literature
Literature
Depression is an Option
Depression is a choice, my dear,
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
...
But...
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choo
I am You by Henly-Hill, literature
Literature
I am You
Life spoke to the void.
"Why do so many hate me? Yet they cling so tightly to my cloak."
Death spoke to the void.
"I am accursed and feared by so many. Yet they all come to me in the end."
Joy spoke to the void.
"I am pursued by all. Yet they find me so elusive."
Hope asked the void:
"Why am I both held so tightly and thrown so easily away?"
War spoke to the void.
"I am what they hate. Yet they cannot live without me."
Peace spoke to the void.
"I am sought by all. Yet they have never found me"
Innocence asked the void:
"Why am I both the first they have and the first they lose?"
Strife asked the void:
"Why am I the one that they hate t
