Depression Poem by Paula Puddephatt

I scrape my motivation off the floor –
Pretend that I can face another day.
I might appear to go on as before,
But am not really here. What can I say?

It’s self-indulgent to write poetry
Like this, so I try not to, but I fail.
I realise that this is “Me, me, me”.
Who are these other people who all sail

Through life? They have problems, too. I know that.
Start with compassion. That’s what Buddha said.
What conclusion am I to arrive at?
Who knows? Must drag myself out of this bed

Each day, and it is getting very hard to.
I guess that it is just the same for you.