Sleepless nights are taking over again,
Though I am a major pen warrior on the battle,
But even warriors do fall on their knees sometimes,
At this place called “life”,
I am fighting a terrible war,
A war no one seems to understand,
A war no one figures out my difficulties,
A war no one tries to narrate its tales,
Different voices playing inside of me,
Scary thoughts overcoming my humble mind,
I am clouded with broken hopes and faded dreams,
Dead pieces of me laying in the scattered field,
I try to turn on the lights but darkness penetrates my soul,
I try to view myself through the mirror but it only reflects the sadness that sleeps on my face,
I try to pretend that everything is right but dying from internal conversations,
Drowning in rivers of bloodshed,
Hidden between deep and shallow foundations,
Within the hidden walls of my body,
I am still losing the fight,
I am still turning the other side of the dice,
I am still bleeding with tears and frustrations,
The knife sits by my side crying for hunger,
I am in need of a drink before I can even dehydrate,
I am in need of a walk before I can even fall,
I am in need of a bed before I can even fall asleep,
I carry my burden, my shame, my hate, and my sadness,
I wear them with a smile so bright,
I have two important natural identities,
Friends and families,
But I search in crowds, boring places, empty fields, and soaring clouds,
I can’t find none of them serving my lips with holy communion,
I write poems but they are not beautiful,
Write some via Facebook, instagram and Twitter, praises rain through beautifully,
But publishing houses reply ‘Good but doesn’t meet our consideration’,
I write beautiful stories but the storyline is fragile,
I contest in various competitions but I am not fit to be called a “Winner”,
Some doesn’t understand my thoughts,
They think I need likes, comments and shares,
They think I need attention and monetary items, They think I want to get known,
But on a daily basis in my room,
Surrounded by my pillows and bed sheets,
I am taking in deep breath,
Dying softly into unconsciousness,
If only they knew that depression is a man of terror, an ocean, a thief, a trained murderer and a bottomless pit made of tears, broken pieces and scattered emotions.
Note: This piece speaks about depression and suicidal thoughts. This is how one feels when he/she is in such state. Let’s spread the message all over. We need to say “NO” to depression. We can do better as a writer. Anyways, I am not depressed. This is just a note for everyone.
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