Poems about Depression

It is difficult to function within this function, walls seem to close in as conversation moves closer. I clam up, unsure if there’s really a pearl inside. Loud noises prompt me to come out, but I recede further within, putting on mask after mask as if I am trying to avoid some Red Death of being social. And those voices get louder and louder until they’re nothing more than a thunderous din, “come out and play!” Instead of taking my masks off, I dive into an ocean, hoping to escape. Only to find that I cannot swim, and I reach up for familiar hands, but only those who grab me are strangers to me, intrigued. This is how I die.

My eyes feel as though I have cried, and yet tonight I have not shed a tear. It is as if my depression has made itself more efficient, completely skipping tears altogether, providing me with nothing but a numb spiral that leaves me in a heap on the couch, a husk of who I was yesterday. It leaves me looking for God. It seems a useless search, like fumbling in a dark room that is empty, despite being told that somewhere within there is a candle. There seems to be no candle.


Good News!

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Our love was like a car that broke in the middle of a pleasant afternoon drove and sp-sp-sputtered to a stop.

Something inside malfunctioned. Something inside and unseen.

It was as if you left me on the side of the road, like I was the reason your rose colored sunglasses shattered,

Pieces flying into the windshield.

You left me with a few pieces of myself and drove off in a cloud of smoke, my dignity bouncing in your trunk.

I don’t know why you left.

Maybe you looked at me the wrong way and saw what had been there all along.

Maybe Cupid wretched his arrow from your heart because someone else needed it.

Maybe my talk of the future brought dark clouds to your horizons, but I really don’t care.

Because just moments before you left me, we had been wearing our rose colored sunglasses together, drinking orange cream soda, and feeling so ironic because behind our glasses we were hardened cynics.

I guess you showed me.

Why did you do it?

Was I a joke that your friends dared you to love?

I always thought I was.

Was I just a prop to your cayenne pepper coated mexican candy-hard-to-swallow-but-you-love-it-oh-god-you-love-it! Life?

Or did you look at me and wish I was a different rose, with a different name (which ended with an “e” to make it edgy), did you think,

“I want no mother to my children. I want a girl who will die in 5 years because of all the cigarettes she smokes, I want a girl who dropped out of her junior year in high school, I want a girl who two weeks ago was totally unobtainable, but now she’s made it to the big 1-8 and she must be mine!”

Did you ever once think of me?

You snatched me up as soon as I was legal, 18 and 23, we were a force to be reckoned with.

Drinking and dancing and sleeping and writing line after line of love letters to you.

The letters were from  both of us.

When did you decide?

Was it when I told you I wanted to be a teacher?

 Was it when I finally told you I loved you when you were sober?

Or was it when I broke my leg and in the hospital, I just wanted you.

I guess it doesn’t matter now.

Because you’re gone.

My dignity, my virginity, and my pride all bouncing in your trunk.


My Anxiety is an abusive partner.

I set him off, and within seconds he has his hands around my throat.

He has me shoved up against a wall, snarling in my face.

He has me locked in small rooms, allowing me no food or water.

He sits on my chest, spitting venom at me as i struggle to breathe.

He slaps me,

Chokes me,

Beats me until I become submissive

To even the smallest of Class Presentations.

My Anxiety is an Abusive Partner.

The Tears (Tiers) of Our Society

    I am Rich. I am White. I am Male. I can do what I want, when I want, and there are no consequences. The world is my oyster. I can do anything. I cry when things do not go my way. I cry when everything is not about me.

I am Middle Class. I am White. I am Female. Sometimes I can take my kids to Disneyland. However, much of the time we do not have much extra. My children have cell phones and backpacks. I work 70 hours a week. We are doing okay, but i am tired. I cry when I miss my son’s baseball game because I have to work. I cry when my boss wants me to sleep with him for a promotion.

I am Poor. I am Female. I am Black. Sometimes my 3 kids go hungry at night. My son is afraid of being shot on the way home. My daughter dropped out of high school to help support us. I am single, and struggling. I am behind on rent, and the landlord wants sexual favors in exchange for a roof over my head. I do it for my children. My kids won’t make it to college. They are just as stuck as I am. I cry when I cannot feed my children. I cry when my sons walk out the door, knowing I may never see them again. I cry when my landlord rapes me.

I am Homeless. I am Black. I am Male. I fought in Vietnam, saved the lives of my men, and fought for my country. When I came back as a veteran, my country did not fight for me. I have PTSD and a bad limp. I have been homeless since i was 31 years old. I haven’t eaten in 3 days. I can’t remember the last time I was able to shower. Women are scared of me, but I just want a friend. I have no family. Last night I slept under a bridge. The drug addicts scare me because they will do anything for a fix. I dream of warm beds and loving arms until the nighmares take over. I cry when I remember my mother. I cry when teenagers harass me. I cry when I am starving. I cry when the flashbacks take over. I cry when children hurry past me in fear. I cry when I remember what I was promised, what I fought for. I cry when I remember my country.

These are the Tears in Our Society.


I am Fierce.

I can shove my depression back down into its hole every morning

Get up out of bed

And put on my war paint.

I am Fierce.

I am a Goddess.

I dress to impress no one but myself

And I look damn good doing it.

I am a Goddess.

I am a Warrior.

I will scream at you

Pummel you

Berate you

Until I have taken back the rights that are mine.

I am a Warrior.

I am a Destroyer.

I allow the light of the bridges I have burned to light my path

Walking away from the toxic waste I leave behind me.

I am a Destroyer.

I am Compassionate.

I will wipe away your tears

Allow you to pour your sadness into me as if I am a glass

If only you can feel happy again.

I am Compassionate.

I am Angry.

I am Angry that every car that drives by me is a threat of harassment

That every fiber of my being is restricted by my sex.

I am Angry.

I am Feminist.

I do not hate men.

But I am not below them.

I am Feminist.

I am Fierce.

I am Wild.

I am Julia.


I am a spaceship captained by a precious and fragile girl.

I am lost in deep space, and one of my engines is out.

Somehow we have maintained warp speed, but as we careen into the stars we are crashing.

I am dented and scratched, and need patches and stitches as we bounce off small planets and meteors.

My captain, this precious and fragile girl, is scared.

She has lost all control, and is trying to reach the panic button

But its voice operated and cannot understand her screams.

Now we’re lost, all the stars are behind us as we slowly realize that the horizon is gone

Even the stars behind us begin to warp and shrink and we come to a horrible conclusion.

We’ve reached a black hole.

Now time is running out, we’re being sucked in and I, with one engine out and bumps and scrapes and bruises don’t have the power to save her.

And she’s screaming and she’s running out of oxygen and time and ideas

I begin to fold in on myself, and I know it is the end for both of us.

Crushed into a pin needle of matter, compressed into almost nothing.

All my hallways and corridors, control rooms and engine rooms begin to shrink and break and press together

And she’s been left all alone to steer the ship.

I can feel her panic and fear and rage and sorrow as all of matter, ever atom of us is crushed into itself

And she gives me one final goodbye as we crumple into ourselves

And Disappear.

Written in Math Class

Do you remember when you struggled with speech?
When words escaped the depth of your comprehension
Just a few syllables were as unfathomable as the mystery of God.
A boy scout twisted your tongue into knots and received his badge for rendering you speechless.
But somehow a displeased deity reached down and gifted you with
and Confidence gently reached inside the hallowed caverns of your mouth and tamed your beast tongue.
Suddenly the rivers of your mind burst through the dam of your confused tongue, flooding the earth with the sea of your thoughts.
And the ocean of your imagination nourished the gardens of the earth
Your speech toppled mountains
Declarations of love whipped hurricanes
Political opinions brought forth nations
A wealth of rich ideas,
Art, music, literature, all bursting forth in a glorious expression of humanity.
So now,
Do you remember when you struggled with speech?


I am tumbling.
I took a walk late at night in the misty fields of my mind
I couldn’t see
I stumbled
I fell.
I fell into the great wide precipice of my sadness
A hole so deep that my screams escape as whispers
I’m staring upward, my neck craned to see the light above me
I can still see everything I am missing
But I can’t pull myself up to join it again
Loved ones may try to encourage me
With loud voices and reaching hands
To try and claw my way back up
Back to where I can forget about my depression
But my arms are limp
I’m not trying anymore
Perhaps it is time for ropes and ladders to be used
Made of medications, cocktails of “happy”.
I would grab those, allow them to lift me out.


Sometimes you scare me

When a gentle punch to the arm becomes something far more painful

When I can only squeak in surprise and swallow the lump of pain in my throat

When your eyes get round as you realize that i’m hurt

I get scared because from what I know

You grew up in a home where slaps were exchanged in place of love.

And i’m very scared that one day, a gentle punch on the arm

Will hurt so much more

That my skin will bruise

That my breath will catch in my throat

And you’ll see just how much it hurts.