The Power of Poetry

Depression Kills.

There is a stinging pain implanted into my chest almost as if a bullet has morphed its way into the lively commotion of my heart.

I place the palm of my left hand on the area to mend the pain

My hand is moist...
Why is my hand moist?

My vision is blurred but it is clear to me that I am bleeding

My blood oozes from my body and my soul begins to wane, my heartbeat is no longer beating the same rhythm.

My heart beat stops.

I drop my shaking hand to the floor and motion my eyes to make contact with the heavens

As I look up I feel the light beaming on my face, yet my left hand is reaching to the depths of hell

I now know where I'm going but why?

Who is responsible for all of this ? Who is the reason for my death?

I refocus my vision to the answer that stands before me ... there it is

It's that bitch that I used to adore !
She seduced me and I fell for her ways

I got stuck in a daze and found myself in an emotional maze

Now look at me

I am a unlucky fool because I danced with her in the darkness of the rain

I allowed her to cloud over my way of viewing life and she has done it with so much potency that I cried tears everyday like Jodeci

She stood before me with a devious grin, tickled by my ill will.

I study her quirky smile, and edgy characteristics. I see why I fell for her.

She and I aren't much different. She looks exactly like me!

.... I stand still. She stands still.

Simultaneously we say, "Depression is a bitch.... and Depression kills. "

I released the gun from my right hand.

Now I know who Depression killed.