Depression is a parasite
Which eats away your consciousness
Your knowledge can be erudite
Yet the despair pit is bottomless
Ignores your own prestige or wealth
Stalks rich and poor impartially
While questioning your mental health
Which fuels the cruel despondency
It haunts the living both young and old
Its gloom pervades not only friends
It kills when it is uncontrolled
A cancer to the bitter end
There is no cure by alcohol
Though try we might for that impasse
Our life’s court is judgemental
We’re charged guilty, as one, en masse
If you’ve not suffered from this disease
We tell you without disrespect
Please save us from your ‘expertise’
Accept the cause of self neglect
So we strive for life’s great cure
And we might think our cause sublime
But one things absolutely sure
The hand which trumps ‘the blues’ is time
The haunting problem of modern man is beautifully rhymed! It gives a scientific analysis and awareness at the same time.Well written.Marks 10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well written! I think at the end your saying the expertise don't know much either, only time is the key. They don't, they think meds is suppose to help us but all it does is make me even more worst off!