everyone wants to know what’s wrong.
Why the curtains are blue,
why the holes aren’t mended,
the stains aren’t clean.
They don’t understand why you feel like
They offer their help,
but for how many times,
as the pain isn’t a one night stand,
but a sucking leech that won’t let go.
Holding you down is the weight of the
people that surround you.
The people that wish to help,
but not every night,
as your own breath is your enemy,
your chest is the knife,
which you feel is stabbing into your
if you dare to ask more than once.
the timeline is thing,
for what people will put up with.
Until they have thoughts of their own,
till they smell the stench of a wolf in
Binding you to your bed,
with nothing but an empty phone.
You wish for their support,
but the hourglass has run its course.
The sand slips from your fingers,
tugs on your hair,
drives into your skin,
no matter a few more scars.
Cause you have convinced yourself that
nobody is there.
They expect a smile,
or maybe a quick fix,
for the few encouraging words that they
don’t expect to say again,
for their time and effort of half an hour.
They expect too much,
but don’t understand why,
The curtains are still blue.
The holes aren’t mended.
And the stains aren’t clean.
Our Winning Poem:
Dana says: “My poem is about depression and how you worry about pushing people away if you ask them for help too many times. It’s also about how people who have never experienced depression, don’t know why you can’t get ‘cured’ if they tell you how great you are.”