My depression is not a demon,
She's an angel that drives away my sanity,
She doesn't torment me with regret,
She simply seeks to acquaint me with reality.

My pain is made with gentle hands,
That seek to remind me of my own fragility,
It flows like ether within my cusk,
And makes me aware of my retched mortality.

My sorrow is a gentle breeze,
In the morbid silence of a lonely night,
It gently tugs my stringless kite,
And drives my broken wings to flight.


|viktor

Every Day Poems

Forwarded from Viktor

My depression is not a demon,
She's an angel that drives away my sanity,
She doesn't torment me with regret,
She simply seeks to acquaint me with reality.

My pain is made with gentle hands,
That seek to remind me of my own fragility,
It flows like ether within my cusk,
And makes me aware of my retched mortality.

My sorrow is a gentle breeze,
In the morbid silence of a lonely night,
It gently tugs my stringless kite,
And drives my broken wings to flight.


|viktor

hottg.com/poetry/15771

4.5K viewsApr 15 at 11:31