Poetry And Writing….Is My Inspiration…Its A Way Of Coping….With Depression And My Mental Illness….

Hello everyone

I struggle with depression myself, I find myself drawn to poetry and writing, to find solace, to find comfort, to find solidarity, and a better understanding of my experiencesas well as the experiences of those who deal with depression in ways that dont mirror mine at all…..

1. IT WAS NOT DEATH, FOR I STOOD UP …

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh

I felt Siroccoscrawl
Nor Firefor just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And twas like Midnight, some

When everything that tickedhas stopped
And Space staresall around
Or Grisly frostsfirst Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground

But, most, like ChaosStoplesscool
Without a Chance, or Spar
Or even a Report of Land
To justifyDespair.

THE FURY OF RAINSTORMS….

The rain drums down like red ants,
each bouncing off my window.
The ants are in great pain
and they cry out as they hit
as if their little legs were only
stitched on and their heads pasted.
And oh they bring to mind the grave,
so humble, so willing to be beat upon
with its awful lettering and
the body lying underneath
without an umbrella.
Depression is boring, I think
and I would do better to make
some soup and light up the cave.

My thoughts on trying to write about peace and happiness…..and now its sadness….

Sadness and loneliness…

I say.. to myself…. Iam a good blogger??…Am I writing something thats meaningful..as I love poetry…such as love and happiness, and peace to try and reach out to help others… regards mental illness…as being a samaritan taking calls can at times be so overwhelming….

Deep Fears Of Tearfulness



Nobody knows,
Nobody sees.
A trapped soul,
In her own deeds.
People walk past,
People skim over.
But they do not realize,
Her soul that has changed
Many others.
Her life a tragic,
Her mind bruised.
But how much more
Can she bear if she only has so little.
A soul lost in sight,
A soul mixed in heights.
Depths of the stars,
Cannot foretell her future.
But she can only take so much,
Before breaking.

Her wrists tell a story

of a damsel in distress.

A princess with her head held high 

and tears in her dress. 

All the frogs shes kissed 

in hopes of finding the one,

leaves her heart broken.

The blade has won.

She shuts herself in the tower

away from everyone else.

She rolls down her sleeves, 

A barrier between truth and stealth.

She can be alone.

Alone is the worst place to be 

for a girl haunted by memories. 

Temptations come faster,

options become less.

When youre alone,

No one knows youre depressed.

Maybe we should stop teaching girls 

That fairytales do come true.

Because there are no princesses. 

Just girls who make it through.

Sorry guys…I write all the time…when Im feeling complete sadness… but its some of my poetry Im sharing with you all….伐弘…

Its my inspiration to all…Im taking a break from wordpress for a while but will be back soon..…