A slow death you die
When to yourself you lie
Day by day you begin to lose
By wrong priorities you choose
Time slips away like sand
From your sweaty hand
Regret becomes your consort
With to-do lists left to sort
You stay awake all night
Pondering how to get alright
A stupor strangles your day
Keeping all calmness at bay
Waves of worry wash ashore
As you struggle to do a chore
Every moment is a torment
Every act becomes a lament
The second half of the poem, especially, seems to describe depression really well.
ReplyDeleteAgree, the poem echoes the stagnation and the difficulty of just doing even a small chore.
ReplyDeleteYou captured the moments of worry, torment and lament very well. It is hard to move forward with hope then these bothersome thoughts weighs us down.
ReplyDeleteSometimes time is just not enough... and you sit there believing it's not enough.
ReplyDelete