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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2221239
fear, desert, depression

They tell me I'm depressed
but what does that mean?
Does it mean that I'm unbearably sad?
Because I'm not
I'm not unbearably
I'm angry
I'm frustrated
I'm confused
I'm scared
But I'm not unbearably sad

I'm not depressed
I'm just scared out of my mind
I'm scared of rejection
I'm scared of being undeserving
I'm scared of being a burden
I don't want to be the weakest link on the chain
I'm scared of being left behind
I don't want to be alone
I'm scared of failure
I don't want to disappoint
Don't tell me I'm perfect the way I am
I know I'm not
I'm told to stop feeling sorry for myself
but what else is there to be sorry for?


This is the desert of your mind
hope and happiness are covered by
layers of prickling despair
shelter from the scorching pressure of your own
expectations exists, but it's impossible to find
One misstep and you're drowning in
a sea of your own self doubt
The more you struggle to get free the faster you sink
Your mind is desperate for contentment
but you're in an endless drought
As night falls, ice cold fear of disappointment seeps into your soul
You pray to the stars for a home
Someone who will love and accept you no matter the sand clinging to your skin
But nobody comes
No one even realizes that you're trapped there
In your dry, barren, lonely mind


It isn't about how many times you pulled yourself up
It's how quickly you get dragged back down
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