poems of depression

for poems that are here as quotes, the quote is the poem and the quote source is the poem title.

this blog is a collection of poems about depression and other related posts. unless otherwise stated poems are original work of the blogger (unless it is a reblog). the blogger is a 25 yr old male who has gone thru a lot of shit in his life. sum of these poems are how he feels now. sum of these poems are how he has felt in the past in order to tell ppl they r not alone. he is no longer suicidal tho he still suffers from depression from time to time, and is overall happier than he has been in a long time. he is continually achieving a better mental health, and wants the readers of this blog to know that at ages 15 and 22 he attempted suicide. at age 22 he took more than twice the lethal dose of a prescription med. he slept for 24 hrs and woke up. he considers it a miracle to still be alive and many good things have happened in his life since. he thanks whatever miracle worker there exists in this existence (if there is one) for allowing him to survive that every day, and he wants u to know that suicide is not worth it because life does get better eventually.

I remember the night everything changed
It was pitch black and the sky looked infinite
And I remember feeling so small and insignificant
And I wondered if I’d ever feel anything else ever again
- s.g.c

—The Night Everything Changed - By Sunay Correa

I am gone
Im hurting im angry
Im blamed im unhappy
He is right im wrong

Cant keep going if I cant be me.
Had enough
The times that are good
Fewer than those rough.
The pain is bigger than me

I am gone
Pushed by all
Emotionally abused
Too much to change

Mentally confused.
The pain is bigger than me

Life should be lived
Im only still young
So why now
Am I feeling numb.

I am gone
Because ive changed so much
I dont know me
Im buried.. deep..

Numb to the bone
Yell at my kids
Look at their little faces
See what life is

Brings back love and hope
Briefly
I really do try.

Glimmer of hope
Comes flashing by
Then a bad day and its gone
Back to wanting to die.
The pain is bigger than me

Hate myself
For making them cry
Take out my anger
On their little souls
Hate myself more.

I am gone
The cause is my family
Hating my life
Don’t agree with my actions
Im not a good wife.

I try to be good
Like a good wife should
But im a failure
I always knew I would
The pain is bigger than me

I am gone
Lack of encouragement
Who knows why
Nag me to change
The small facts of my life
Can never ever do anything right

Maybe if I listened
I would stay alive
Please tell my kids
I really did try

My husband is a good man
He will be fine

I am gone
Why cant they see
The pain im in is bigger than me

They will now see
How I was hurting
Im done with this life
I take to the sky
Sorry to be selfish
I really did try.

—Jenna v

writebecauseyoumeanit asked: I noticed you put up a few of my poems and visited your blog. It's pretty cool. I appreciate what you're doing for people. And as far as sharing my poems goes.... Thank you :-) Do you have a copy of the book they're from? If so, great! What was your favorite work in it? If not, I'm still happy you're enjoying the ones you've seen. --Michael T. Martinez

writebecauseyoumeanit:

poems-of-depression:

A friend of mine has a signed copy of it from your first printing actually. I guess he’s friends with you. He actually shared some of your poetry with me before a book was out. I read it, liked it, and ordered it on Amazon so it should be coming soon :-) I’ve actually borrowed my friend’s copy until it gets here. I think my favorite in it is the short story “Dying to Communicate”.  It was kind of odd and creepy, but it was really cool and made me think. I like that sort of stuff.

First of all, you’re welcome.  Second of all, thanks for the compliments.

I actually wrote the first draft of “Dying to Communicate” in a thirty minute public bus ride.  One nice thing about not owning a car is that public transit allows you to read and write when you go places :-)

Pretty cool :-)

writebecauseyoumeanit asked: I noticed you put up a few of my poems and visited your blog. It's pretty cool. I appreciate what you're doing for people. And as far as sharing my poems goes.... Thank you :-) Do you have a copy of the book they're from? If so, great! What was your favorite work in it? If not, I'm still happy you're enjoying the ones you've seen. --Michael T. Martinez

A friend of mine has a signed copy of it from your first printing actually. I guess he’s friends with you. He actually shared some of your poetry with me before a book was out. I read it, liked it, and ordered it on Amazon so it should be coming soon :-) I’ve actually borrowed my friend’s copy until it gets here. I think my favorite in it is the short story “Dying to Communicate”.  It was kind of odd and creepy, but it was really cool and made me think. I like that sort of stuff.

First of all, you’re welcome.  Second of all, thanks for the compliments.

Years have past, some filled with sorrow,
Some sorrow relieved with hopes for ‘morrow,
But in the end what is the use
Of self-inflicted mental abuse?
This mental abuse of which I speak
Is the insistence of one’s self to seek
A way to justify the sorrows
One hopes will go away for the ‘morrows
By filling one’s self with meaningless hope
In hopes to help one deal and cope
With the misery that this world brings
To all who speak, and he who sings.
No one can fool me into believing
That there is a chance of any relieving
Of the sorrows that come with life on Earth
That go on to death, that start with birth,
And although I wish this were not the case,
I know it to be true, and so I face
The future knowing all too well
That to sorrows there will be no liberty bell,
And I merely grasp the things of today
That bring joy to me in any way,
And try to hold on to these things
As life flies forward on time’s wings
In hopes that maybe these little joys
Can help me push on through life, that annoys
And fills my heart with such anguish
And out of my eyes, the sorrows fish
Tears from deep down within my soul
Where since childhood there has been a hole.

But what is this I hear from you?
You have found a way to get through
This life as a man appearing happy,
Despite the hopelessness I see
For all who walk, and all who talk
And all who grow like a bean stalk,
But perhaps not everyone is me,
Perhaps not all live in misery,
Perhaps because their memory
Is not filled with the sorrows that there be
Lying in my subconscious,
And sometimes seeping through to this,
My mind in its conscious state
Which I wish could be wiped to a clean slate.
I do not want the misery
Which I associate with this world I see,
But all I know is what I’ve seen
And that includes many things obscene.

Maybe for you life seems complete,
But to me there is nothing about it sweet
The bitter days and weeks I go through
In helpless disarray with nothing to do
To halt the madness makes me want to
Ask this one favor of you:
To simply enjoy life the best you can
So vicariously I can be a happy man
By observing the joys that you encounter
And embracing them so as I flounder
Around in memories of yesteryear
That bring about so many a tear
I can be happy, even if just for you,
Which in a way helps me get through.

My Hopeless Sorrows by MIchael T. Martinez, from his collection The Path of Life

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  It is the intellectual property of Michael T. Martinez, but Martinez does not endorse our use of this work nor how we used it in any way, shape, or form.  This work is free to share under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License, a copy of which is found at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/deed.en_US

On some days life’s OK,
On others life just sucks.
So I pick myself up again
And throw back at the schmucks
The garbage they throw at me
Today and everyday
They’re not always too happy
With what I have to say.
But all in all life’s good,
If you know how to ignore the bad,
And rising against all odds
Makes the odd-makers mad.
I’ve had a life so far
That I think has gone quite well
Except for when it hasn’t,
But those days can go to Hell.
And in my darkest nights
The bright day seems far away
But when the light breaks through
The night is shattered by the day.
And when my dying day comes
I’ll say to you, “You know,
I lived half a good life
Half a bad life ago.”

Life’s Good….  And Bad by Michael T. Martinez, from his collection The Path of Life

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  It is the intellectual property of Michael T. Martinez, but Martinez does not endorse our use of this work nor how we used it in any way, shape, or form.  This work is free to share under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License, a copy of which is found at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/deed.en_US

bigdaddykaay asked: i just started following you today & your blog means so much to me.. thank you

You’re welcome.  Sorry I don’t get around to posting on this blog as much as I probably should :-/  My life has been hectic and busy.

I try to think positive but it doesn’t feel genuine
I fake a smile so they won’t know.
I pretend to be happy because they wouldn’t understand
The debilitating effect of my sorrow.
Haunting memories of the past
That I try to keep where they belong—long ago
Come to my mind, I can’t keep them down,
And as I fight to make it to tomorrow
I feel as though I’m losing the fight
I feel as though all hope is gone,
Maybe it would help if it didn’t seem
Like I’m hated by everyone.
And as I dive into the depths of darkness
Where one cannot catch even a mere glimpse of the sun,
I search frantically for a ladder or rope
To pull myself out from this crater for one.

—Crater for One

They lie on my skin like insects,
Though, these you cannot flick away.
You trace your hand over them in the showe.
They aren’t something you forget.
1 turns into 10 & 10 turns into 50; your new bestfriend.
Each one of them, you hold with a memory,
a memory you see clear as day.
You trace your fingers over them day to day.
Twist is this, the insects that lie;
are the scars from each time you wanted to die.

—Submission, requested to be anonymous