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A Depression Poem

Rating: 4.5

The day is too beautiful to be inside in
The worlds of sunlight leaves and distant walkways
Call
But inside deeper than all darkness
The demons play their cruel habitual game
And nothing is seen
But the screaming of one's own dark pain-

Nothing beautiful matters
All the world outside does not exist

Inside where the deepest hell is
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Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: depression
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Sandra Feldman 29 October 2014

One of the saddest and most painful poems on Solitude that was ever written.

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