Depression Calling Upon Grief

I've been tormented for years.
Poked, prodded, bleeding,
Hiding from my fears.

The pain was unbearable.
Suppress to survive was the lifeline.
Its ache is incomparable,
Like my insides dying-
No pain greater than being alive.

Tender and gentle,
But ravaged and defiled-
Like a flower with its petals plucked,
Barren and fighting, call it survival.

No time to grieve-stuff, stuff, stuff.
If it's not distraction, it's denial.

Here I am now;
In your body I am trapped.
I boarded a boat called healing,
No return, no reeling

It feels like your insides are dying;
It's calling a friend called, Grief.
You will pass through the agony,
But at the end is some relief.

Don't lose hope-this pain you have stored,
It sits in your body;
It can no longer be ignored.

So, I call out:
Come, my dear friend, Grief, it's you who needs to turn a new leaf!


by Taite Sandschafer