Lost Voice Poem by E. Pendragon

Lost Voice



I lost my voice; not to silence or to sound,
I lost it to doubt who ran it a-ground,
I had always thought madness; a pretty place to be,
But it is not as lonely as I expected it to be,
I hear the jackals laughing; from mental sidelines,
The hot shame boiling at my imaginary crimes,
Crows that pick unwilling flesh from my bones,
While my chest cracks; under the weight of depression's stone,
If it had just been me alone; I could perhaps cope,
Could've sat in steady silence; nursing a small hope,
I would not have drowned so horribly; in all my self-hate,
I would've simple starved of affection; as the day grew late.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
reflection on anxiety and depression
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