Black/Depression - Poem by Michelle Freeman
It is not a complexion,
It is not a colour,
Just a hole: a never-ending, bottomless hole.
You know what happens
When you reach the bottom – you die.
My life is black, with flashes of colour.
People are formless, with wide, oppressing mouths.
It seems to be a tunnel,
It seems to be a pit,
But it’s just a hole – a never-ending, bottomless hole.
Thursday,3rd June 2004
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