im sick of my sadness and disgusted by my grief. i fear there is no cure for a melancholy spirit. day in and day out i will sit on the verge of tears in fearful contemplation that not even medication will make me better. not even poetry—that's the reason i started, to get better. not even therapy. not even my dog—my most reliable source of happiness. i fear i am condemned to a life where i walk the threshold between depression and melancholy. where i will cry more times than i will speak. and i will spend more waking hours rotting in my bed than i do asleep.
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sometimes rain, sometimes rainbow - poetry collection
Poetrya collection of poems, written in real time about the good, the bad, and the ugly that comes with healing. PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS this poetry collection includes themes and descriptions of: sexual violence/assault/harassment PTSD halluci...
