Something I wrote when I was struggling with depression and anxiety, it's a darker piece if the meaning of it is clear.
She's always tired,
Somehow no one sees,
The battle inside her head,
She needs time but she can't control it,
Slowly it feels like her soul is slipping through the cracks and her mind is turning to ash,
Something so simple, so beautiful,
Yet her mind cannot find peace to except it,
Something her soul can't control and her mind can't expell,
It's clutches grab at her heart slowly turning it to black,
She's always so tired,
Looking for a way to slip away,
To slip from the darkness around her heart,
Because she can't take it anymore,
She's always so tired.
Written from a hole I was not sure I would ever get out of.
…is the spark I think I see
In others, but don’t see in me
The taste of smiles, life’s joyous zest
Why can’t I feel like all the rest?
I play my part, no understudy,
Unending search for friend or buddy
Vicarious scenes from other’s lives
A few brief sparks, my soul derives.
At times I weep, no point or thought
Perhaps from deeds I’ve done or wrought
And yet with life, I can’t connect
Emotions viewed quite circumspect.
As others’ feelings generate
I search within, a rising hate
The inability to show concern
Deep feelings aren’t a thing to…
By James Geehring
Snake with eight legs treads web
Foreign slaves beds crave death
Wrapped in strange threats caged pets
Morphed the more fed
Through rageless stages
Frantic wings spread
Punished with stringy chain links
Swallowed its own head
Flight taken stuck to sticky tendons
Slithering tendency rendered
To kill or set free surrender