I don’t know about you guys but poetry has been with me for so long, it has been one of the most important aspects, when it comes to my personal life experiences.
Poems about depression and anxiety are the main two topics I focus on.
Why is that?
You see, growing up in an abusive household ruins your life, and the only way I could deal with what was going on in my life was writing poems about depression. That was some really long time ago, but I still treasure every single one of the poems I wrote back then when I was barely a teenager. Those are too personal. There are others that even though they’re personal, I feel comfortable sharing with the world.
I used to post some of these poems on social media under an alias I gave myself so no one would know it was me. To this day, it still scares me to have all these personal stories out for everyone to read. I am facing that fear right now, and I’m going to share with you three of my poems. They are really short, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to read some long essay type of poem, so I hope you enjoy these. I will also be giving you a little insider on what they’re about.
Side note: The poems down below are all written by me.
it’s three am and im still awake battling the voices and the memories inside my head.
everybody tells me what to do, but no one knows how to understand.
it’s not just doing nothing while laying in bed;
it’s barely sleeping two hours and waking up wishing you were dead.
I wrote this piece last year while I was struggling with a diagnostic of severe depression. My life was once again crumbling into little pieces, and I had no control over what was going to happen next, or if I was even going to make it out alive.
I had no desire to keep fighting the misery I was feeling, but something inside me told me to hold on and just try to survive each day as it’s own.
I’m still fighting every day and even though it hasn’t really gotten any better, in fact, everything has just gotten worse. The only accomplishment I feel proud of is still being here and fighting my way through life.
tell me you love me.
just please tell me once.
i don’t know what it is but you left me undone.
now i know that for you i just wasn’t enough.
As you’ve seen in the tittle, this one is self explanatory. I grew up with an alcoholic and abusive mother who never, not once, told me she loved me. Instead, all I got from her was non-stop mistreatments.
I’m still carrying that trauma for what she put me through and sometimes, just sometimes, I wish she would’ve consider the option of not having me. I never got any empathy while I was growing up and becoming my own person, I still have a permanent scar on my soul because of that. “I love you’s” are still so hard for me to believe. My brain still can’t process that I’m capable and worthy of being loved.
she was that girl.
the one that left before the party started, but was scared to go back home.
she found beauty in souls and it helped her grow.
she made peace with her past even though she could never let it go.
This one gathers small parts of my every day life, living with social anxiety, being scared of going back home because I didn’t want to have another bruise on my body. I have always been the type of person that loves having a special connection with people. Growing up I never had that chance.
More than what’s on the outside, I want to know if you believe in religion, what are your fears, what keeps you up at night, tell me your childhood fears…I want that type of connected with someone. Nowadays it’s so hard to find these types of people. I may be in my 20s, but I’m not about the social life of partying and going crazy.
I’d rather feel safe, surrounded with open minded people and just forget about my past, even if it is just for a couple of minutes.
It Doesn’t Matter What Others Think
As you may notice, my poems aren’t good…at all. But, regardless of that, I still enjoy writing them and letting all of my emotions and frustrations out. Instead of “just thoughts” I want to make them a reality after they’re written down on a piece of paper.
What I’m trying to say here is that it doesn’t matter if you’re a professional writer, or someone like me who just loves the idea of creating words out of life experiences.
Poems about depression make me feel less alone and more at peace with myself. I know I’m not good, but it makes me feel like I have accomplished something whenever I write one of my poems. But again, you don’t have to write poems about depression if it’s not something you’re into. You can write about anything you want. It’s all up to you. Even if you don’t think you’re good, just try it; you’d be surprised of how amazing and capable you are. I mean, you’ll never know until you try it.
This is also the first time I let my work become a description of myself, which is something really exciting but also nerve-wracking for me.
What did you think about my poems? Do you write poetry? If so, how is it going for you? I would love to hear from you in the comment section down below.