Alone Poem by Teens

What Depression Feels Like

I've struggled with self-injury, anorexia, bulimia, and have tried to commit suicide 11 times...this is what the void of depression feels like...

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I'm not sure if I'm depressed. Sometimes I feel wrong saying I am. Only because nothing terribly bad has happened to me. I haven't been through a close relative dying, I haven't been scarred...

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Empty

©

Published: November 2011

Her thoughts bob under the surface,
Her lost dreams circling around her in clouds.
Every fake smile, fake laugh,
Only feeds the emptiness inside.
She's lost the ability to cry,
Surrendered it to the numbness
So she no longer has to feel.

The thick, black cloud overcomes her,
Smothering her till she suffocates.
She gasps, while inside her,
Everything is torn apart.
Her heart ripped to shreds,
And repeatedly stabbed,
With a rusty dagger.

Her soul screams as the demons rip into it,
Those horrible monsters.
No. They're her demons,
Her horrible monsters.
She's her own monster.
The guilt's eating her alive,
As she slowly kills herself...

From the inside out.
She seems fine on the outside.
The same laughing, smiling girl she's always been.
The scars she keeps hidden are the only sign.
A silent scream,
But no one notices,
Or do they just not care?

She's so alone.
She's always been alone.
Ever since the shadows ate her essence,
Sacrificed herself to the cold tendrils of sin.
False promises tempting her away from the Light,
And into the barren Darkness.
She's always so LOST...

Inside her own body...
It seems her hands have a mind of their own,
As they slice her arms,
Her ankles,
Her thighs.
With the blade she's always kept as a close companion.
The same rusty razor.

She watches the blood as it leaks out,
Down her arms and thighs.
Her release from the never ending cold.
But it's not enough.
It's never enough.
Not when she carries the weight
Of the world on her shoulders.

But she knows what is enough.
She stares at the bottle of pills,
Knowing this is her escape
From the Darkness that surrounds her.
I'd be quick,
Painless.
She's already slowly killing herself.

Destroying her soul.
No one can help,
They've tried before,
And they helped...
For a while.
But then she was back to faking her joy
With the mask that became her best friend.

She began starving herself,
She could never look good enough,
She found joy in each ache of hunger.
It meant it was working,
She was going to be skinny,
But it was never enough.
How could it ever be?

When she couldn't resist food, she'd stuff herself,
Then made a point of throwing up.
She pushed everyone away,
Stuck in her solitude.
Her shadow her best friend,
But soon the shadow was her.
A forgotten ghost...

Just a piece of who she was,
Who she used to be.
Left behind as she slowly killed herself,
She's only a shadow,
A wisp in the wind.
Never finding happiness.
She lost herself.

With no hope of being found...

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • by Stressd Nd Depressed
  • 1 year ago

I'm not sure if I'm depressed. Sometimes I feel wrong saying I am. Only because nothing terribly bad has happened to me. I haven't been through a close relative dying, I haven't been scarred by something drastic. So I feel a bit selfish in taking that term to describe myself. My family's well off, I go to a good school, I have good grades. I should be happy, but I'm not. Usually I am. But then when it's late at night like it is now, I get this feeling I can't even describe. I feel hollow and empty and tingly. I can't talk to anyone in my family about this. So I just cry for a little and write poems until I sleep. And then I start my day again like nothing happened. I've been through heartbreak, loss of close friends, but to me, that's no reason to feel like I am. I'm better than I was before and yet still so terrible. Whenever I move forward it seems as if I regress. I don't know. This is weird.

  • by Lulu, Plantation Fl
  • 5 years ago

Since my brother died nobody seemed to notice how much I was hurting inside. They all just ignored me, and made me feel invisible at that time my best friends were my razor blades and the bottles of pain killers till they are my besties so I can really relate to this poem.

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