The Black Dog
The thoughts inside my head are dark,
it's the black dog and his bark.
From this torture; I can no longer be free,
For you see my death is all that can save me.
As I draw another breath,
I long for it to bring me death.
In darkness I live each day,
My grip on life has begun to fray.
This beast inside me has won the fight,
this grip; I can no more, hold on so tight.
This Black Dog has torn me apart,
time has now lapsed, and this evil I cannot outsmart.
By Amanda Reid
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Black Dog by Amanda Reid )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- A Little While, Dante Gabriel Rossetti
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Tiger, William Blake
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
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