I Think It’s Getting Bad
My depression is making a comeback.
It’s been small and steady
like the molasses
I would pour on hot biscuits
If I could wake up and make them.
I can tell it when I’m saying I love you
and I linger just a little to savor it before it’s gone.
I’m feeling it in the way my hair only sticks to my head
and it no longer has the energy to curl
or come alive.
I think it’s getting bad again
when I look at my skin and only see a canvas to display my wrongdoings
I think it’s getting bad again
when I want the hunger to stay
so I at least feel something
I think it’s getting bad again when sleep just sounds like an answer
to a question my body never asks anymore
I think it’s getting bad when I’m
feeding off my sadness
because what else am I suppose to write about?
6 thoughts on "I Think It’s Getting Bad"
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I feel you, friend. You explain depression so well.
“sleep just sounds like an answer
to a question my body never asks anymore”
South a vivid description. I relate To this so much. Sending you love.
Wholeheartedly agree with this comment. These lines capture depression in its truest form.
Bless you – I push myself to keep ahead of it –
and eventually…I’m a great believer in prayers – you’re in them now…
Well written and you capture the knowing as depression begins.
“when I look at my skin and only see a canvas to display my wrongdoings” relatable and too familiar.
When this shroud of feeling begins to creep in my open window or under my locked door,
then it is time to plow the ground, clean the basement, shear the sheep–something hard, physical and consuming. It must work to erode the creepies that wish to hang there.
Such a great piece of work.