Depression:
A horribe thing.
It comes out of nowhere like a ring.
Because of it she is no longer the same.
Which made my life rather lame.
She is gone. She went to the South.
Without her no words come out of my mouth.
People cry about boyfriends, and drama. While I cry about my mama.
Mother isn't the same it saddens me.
Why Mother...can't you see me? No. We.
My face is a lie.
I am not happy or ok. Why?
She is gone....I only see her through the glass of a screen.
But we are a team.
Mother. Be strong.
I want you back. Even though it wasn't that long.
Mother. Calm yourself.
I can't do things by myself.
Mother. Please try your best.
Please be better soon so we can go to the west.
Depression is what causing my mother to be this way.
That's why I hate it and its a horrible I say.
Mother. We love you. Beat this horrible condition.
YOU ARE READING
The Little Stories of Life
PoetryA book about poems of life for me and what goes around for me. Poems aren't really my thing but I guess I will try give it a try and write some.
