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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: saw-toothdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: lebeauvide
    ASL Info:    24/F
    Elite Ratio:    2.29 - 75/295/165
    Words: 378
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 638
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2429



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotssaw-toothdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Depression is a funny thing.
    It is the voice in the back left corner of your head,
    that whispers, "Laugh the loudest. Be the brightest person
    in this room, or they will know. They will know
    how much you want to fucking die."

    Depression says things like, "Wear bright colors and
    go out with your friends. Maybe it will quell
    the maelstrom for a moment
    a moment or two
    for a month
    for a year,
    but you know I'll still be waiting for you
    around the corner
    in an alley
    when you least expect it
    or when you do."

    It lurks in the edges. It is at home in the periphery,
    rearing its head and showing you the inside of its
    saw-toothed mouth only
    when you finally start to have hope
    that maybe the light at the end of the tunnel
    is the sun
    and not a flashlight
    held in the hands of a Parkinson's patient
    constantly moving and unreachable.

    Depression does things like,
    make you go out to bars and pretend that you're drinking to have fun
    but really you're drinking to forget how much you hate yourself
    and every person around you
    and instead it makes you remember how your high school boyfriend called you ugly
    and maybe you start to think he was right all along.

    Depression tells you things like, "Work harder. Be the best.
    If you're the best, then no one will ever suspect
    that you're falling apart from the inside out.
    Everyone will think that you're normal and
    that's all anyone really wants, right?
    Normal people don't think about driving through guard rails
    or how many knives are in the kitchen.

    Normal people don't feel this way, right?
    Depression wraps its arms around your waist and kisses your neck like it is your lover
    it is the best lover you have ever known
    it knows you better than you know yourself
    because it has mapped you.
    It knows the curves of your body and the nerve patterns that make up your brain and it knows
    which buttons to press to make you
    come undone.

    It is an endotoxin.
    It is a paralytic.
    It is mercury in the water.

    It is poison.




    Submitted on 2016-06-04 22:08:48     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      There's something endearing about this poem, between the thoughts of being spoiled and basic philosophical considerations. In a sense, depression really is whatever you call it (read, want it to be). Read the poem with the word life instead of depression. Or use your name (as an object noun). Know that the things depression tells you are only sad facts of life if you expect that life is meant to be something devoid of those things. I'm not saying it's healthy to be curious about death all of the time, but at the same time, that focus on death is what drives life forward.

    it's like the paradox of having to ask: "I'm not crazy, right?"
    | Posted on 2016-06-08 00:00:00 | by Outlaw | [ Reply to This ]


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