We had blue thoughts back in those days
When it seemed, the skies were always gray
What were we thinking in those days?
Only to get away from that place
Youth is carefree, except when it’s not
When the troubles of blackened days
Cloud a mind that eventually strays
And wants to cut the cord of thought
“Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” – Robert Frost
in solitude I come to know myself –
chatter of others stripped away, me stripped
of creature comforts, a creature without
a haven, thoughts bang & jangle
in a brain that has gone insane –
It’s relatively easy for me to fall into a depressed mood. It’s also something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember. What I’m coming to realize, though, is looking at depression as an enemy that must be fought only puts me deeper in the hole.