Purgatory, a poem about depression

Depression is not sadness;
it is being buried in dreams
of anxiety and pain
It is staring at the
same
page
of a book
and not even hearing the rain

Depression is not sadness;
it is wanting someone there
but having nothing to say
It is not feeling the wind
on a cool breezy day

It is staring at the ceiling,
watching the fan ocillate
It is face down in the couch
under a boulder’s weight

Depression is not sadness;
when you feel like a burden,
no one can hear you cry
And you wouldn’t have an answer
if they asked you why
The shower stays
bone
dry

The sun rises and sets
behind the curtains you close
The moon looks down on you
with its soft, milky glow
Caresses your hair
and all the oil it’s grown

Depression is not sadness;
it is waiting without a clock
and existing is a chore
It is being chained
to the bottom
of the ocean floor

Going up
or going down
on the same elevator
Depression is not sadness
Do I end it all now,
or later?

C. L. J.

4 thoughts on “Purgatory, a poem about depression

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