Sometimes, I don't know what to write. So, I just stare at the blank page in front of me. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting for the words which bleed emotion. Waiting for the black words which leak colours. Waiting for those unmoving words which give life to so many dead things. Waiting for those words of black and white which show. Hope. Hope. Hope.
Hope which powers the hopeless to live on. Hope which changes the future for the better. Hope that can bring power to the powerless. Hope which can bring people together. Hope which gives me the power to wait until I give up on that hope. Until I give up on that fading light. Until I give up on that blank page.
That blank page which holds so much potential. The potential to change the world or the potential to make it remain the same. The potential which creates peace or resolves in hate. The potential to end someone's life and the same potential to save another's life. The potential. The potential. The potential.
Then I give up waiting on that blank page.
I give up on the hope.
I give up on the potential.
I give up on the readers.
I give up on you.
Please, don't ever give up on writing.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Depression
PoetryOriginal poems about Mental Illness by me. I can take requests if you want a certain illness or scenario to be written about.
