poetry from a depressed person

chapter nine: i sit here

i sit here, feeling like a shell so hollow that a pin drop could echo through my emptiness for a million years.

i sit here, gradually getting over it. gradually not caring anymore. gradually being able to focus on myself.

i sit here, enwrapped in my darkest web and handled by my demons.

i sit here, no longer wanting to experience this alone, wanting to be able to have someone help me thrive through this.

i sit here, being happy that i am out of a constant cycle.

i sit here, more emotionally powerful than before, but my mind just as weak as yesterday.

i sit here wallowing in my memories of days filled with light and smiles. smiles that only came from me. smiles coming from the feeling of freedom.

i sit here, my mind looking at it's own reflection; a person with no social circle, a person who feels alone, a person who cannot lend their trust to anyone, a person once more trapped...

i sit here, now calling for help, as i am a person struggling to maintain balance on this thin rope.

i sit here..

suicidal ideations skipping across and across my frail mind.

i sit here..

i sit here..

oh, how i sat there..

as i rest my eyes and succumb to it.

i sat there..

oh, how i once sat there..