depression – Page 2 – rog's poems

🏔️

after every fall,
the climb back up is longer
as my strength surges
and hope gathers.

but the plummet afterwards
always hurts twice as much.

i stood at the edge,
the wind tasting of salt and freedom,
the drop and the silence below
calling themselves peace.

i used to think that falling
was the only way to stop from breaking,
that the world would understand
why the air didn’t catch me.

my toes curled over stone,
the ocean marking my target
as i took a deep breath in,
bracing for the shove.

but it never came.

the horizon sang
with a beauty and hum
i will never forget-
the sky golden and alive
as i opened my eyes.

my ache is still here,
but it beats with my heart-
asking me to stay.

i took my step back,
not in fear,
but in wonder
at how much more there is to live for.

🍸

the glass whispers,
filling me with a cool warmth
meant to soothe the nerves that ache,
but only calm for a few.

the shadows still await,
watching from the doorway
as nothing is mended; buried; solved.

the pain simply rests,
counting down until the quiet lifts
and louder than ever before.

scars

our scars,
memories etched into our skin
with a story for each.

some gentle, like brushstrokes
reminding us of joy and laughter
from when we were young,
falling and getting back up.

others more rough,
irregular lines we’d rather forget
that sting with memories
of nights we thought we wouldn’t make it.

and then there are the ones unseen,
invisible to all but ourselves
within fractures of our mind.

one by one,
these helped weave who we are.

good or bad,
they never leave-
a map leading down a road with no end
but countless stories of survival.

cellar

the cellar sits idle,
padlock on the ground
with bolt cutters next to it.

the handles wait,
aching to be pulled,
but i know what lives inside-
the whispers,
the weight,
the things with my name etched into them
that haunt me still.

if i open it,
they’ll rush out,
and i don’t know if i’ll have the strength
to shut it-

not again.

broken lock

the door won’t budge.
the key just stops,
mocking me.

i pusH,
kick,
pull,
plEad-

everything.

but nothing.

the Lock has forgotten me
as the darkness aPproaches,
ready to succeed.

disguise

being like this,
it isn’t fun.

i want to cry
but my body forgets how.
i want to scream
but my throat chooses silence.

i don’t want to shake
but my hands reveal my secret,
full of shame
and embarrassment.

i don’t want to drown
but my thoughts continue to pour in,
plugging the drain
and overfilling.

i don’t want to be this way,
fighting my battles alone.
scared to show my pain,
happy to share my disguise.

i wish someone could see
past the skin i wear so well,
and grab my hand
to calm my storm.

night drive

the path opens,
my car turning onto it
as dirt and gravel whisper under tired tires.

off the map and off the road,
not a streetlight in sight
nor is there a reason to stop.

the moon attempts to accompany me,
as do the stars,
but to no avail-
this is meant to be done alone.

just the hum of the engine
and whatever’s left of me clinging-
to the wheel?
to the body i carry?

i don’t know where i am,
maybe that’s the point.

the silence feels oh so heavy,
as if it knows
i wouldn’t mind
if it let me disappear into it.

😢

it’s okay-
to mimic the rain,
to shatter the glass,
to run the faucet without care.

pain,
heartbreak,
fear,
tragedy,
life.

even the strongest
must cry sometimes.

💤

one would think
that after resting for 26 years,
they would have energy.

energy to explore-
to run with speed,
to love with passion,
to write with fire,
to live without fear.

but no-
i am still so tired.