I want to write a depressing poem.

I want to call it “Crying at Night.”
I want to call it “Loneliness and Fright”,
“End of Life” or “Meaningless Strife.”

I want to tell the world I’m feeling down,
And I want to tell them why.
I try not to be the first to frown,
But come the start of night, I cry.

I cry for the smallness I feel,
The insignificance that seems so real.

I cry for the loss of friendship,
For I was the one who let it slip.

I cry for the futility of goals,
That for all my work no smile shows.

I cry for the gone-by past,
The time I let things go by fast.

I cry for the me I see,
Weakness searching for pity.

I cry for those things I do not know,
And so I drift off into sleep
Tears gone, nothing to weep.

I contemplate that thought,
Upon which a suicidal mind is wrought.

I imagine I am surrounded by smiles,
Even walking around a thousand miles.

I fade away and forget there’s day.
That come tomorrow, I’ll try again.
That for my life I have a plan,
And so many reasons to stay.

I write these words myself I shun,
But I’d rather shout into some ink
Than see my thoughts forever run,
Hiding shame and hoping you see.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 21st, 2010 at 10:59 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.