tired

The dream, that’s what it would be
the dream to have just one day of peace
this depression, it’s killing me
if for some time I could be happy
I’d continue to live and struggle
just to be rid of this disease

If I could find the joys of the world
and not to feel so damn miserable
I’d search and seek to locate that place
the area that knows nothing of such horrible pain
the time where I wouldn’t have to wear a mask
to pretend to be what everyone imagines me to be

I’m tired, tired of trying to fight
and very few people I know understand,
truly comprehend the war I’m in
a tragic war, that I can only dream of winning
I often wonder why that is, why they can’t
Why do they think I can just “snap out of it”?

The hell that I exist in, is pure distress
an area where demons have hold of me
I desperately want to destroy the devil inside
so that he can never affect me again
the dream I pray to the Lord every day
I want to have that one day of peace and happiness
SEG

*Most of the poetry posted on my website was written during my teens and twenties. There are a few exceptions but typically I find myself wanting to journal regularly and write poetry if inspired. Poetry has been my therapist during many trying times. I have decided to post these poems because it reflects my history with suicidal depression and the struggles I encountered trying to cope with life and depression.