They gather beneath flickering neon,
in narrow alleys where the pavement remembers rain,
where glasses clink like distant thunder
and the air smells of sweat, stale tobacco, and old promises.
A woman’s laughter, cracked and sharp,
spills into the room like broken shards;
a man leans on the bar—his elbow’d sorrow
ordering another round, trading hours for oblivion.
The jukebox—wounded, nostalgic—
grinds out a song of ghosts and faded dreams.
Bartender’s hands shake between bottles
as shadows press against the windows, watchers wanting in.
Walls scribbled with names never spoken—
with hearts shattered, hopes pawned.
Outside, the city coughs, writhes in sleepless neon;
inside, time stands still, drunk and defiant.
We are all believers here—
in the altar of amber liquor,
the hymn of poured whiskey,
in the communion of husbands and strangers.
Midnight cracks open like a broken mirror—
edges sharp, reflection distorted.
Beer calls; gin beckons;
the bouncer counts bodies, not sins.
And when the music fades,
when the lights cut low—
they linger, some to forget, others to feel everything
in the hollow between heartbeats.
TORMENTATION
Her
solitude
had
nothing
to do with
her femininity
nor her
hued skin;
rather,
it was due
to the
the demon
child
of darkened
mind:-
Her
self-imposed
chosen
isolation
glowed
with
equanimity
in
rejection
of all
peer
companionship,
irrespective
of
age
gender
transgender
ethnicity
or
political
leanings:
to choose
to
be
lonely
and
rejected
is
mean
and
to
desire
to be
is
satanically
horrendous:-
Tomorrow
i will
ask her
if
she
would
consider
being
my
friend:-
It's clear that you love me
But i don't understand why
After the things I have done
And all times I made you cry
I've let you down many times
And put those tears on your face
I hate myself for creating you pain
Along with all your disgrace
I cannot fathom how you felt
Each time your heart was broke
The pain and shame you hid
Behind depressions dark cloak
You stood up for me each time
Even knowing I was in the wrong
Your love must unconditional
And it's grace I do not belong
You deserve someone who's worthy
And who isn't the reason you to cry
This is difficult because I love you
But it time that we say goodbye
Is age really just a number
With no money no slumber
When birthdays were a fun
Why now I feel that I am done
For each year I used to wait
Now each year appear as bait
When kith and kin were all fam
When we all were herd of ram
When Aunt was another mom
And well enacted the rom com
When Dadu play my super spine
When he’s there for every dine
When love gets lost in labour
No kin, no trust and no favour
In chamber of thorn in all line
Where wonder i if all is fine
In drums of drama’n distance
In every heart there is a fence
A hope resides like star shine
In million miles i may get mine!
Why can't I ever find happiness
Is that too much for me to ask
Happiness seems to elude me
It's in depression where I bask
I believe my emotions all left
There is nothing that I can feel
I'm stuck with this numbness
With it I'm trying to learn to deal
Why am I forced to live this way
With a life that's well below par
With each day that passes me by
My heart gains another scar
Why is it for me any happiness
It's always just out of my reach
Depression built a wall around me
That happiness is unable to breach
Someone tell me what I'm to do
With this waste of a life that I live
I've tried everything known to man
I have nothing else im able to give
I'm so tired of searching for answers
There's none available that I see
I truly believe I'd be more well to do
If I were to end it and no longer be
I'm too tired to keep on fighting
The same drawn out fight
With my life is finally over
It will be my life's only Delight
They told me it was medicine.
A cure in a capsule.
A little light in liquid form,
a powder path to paradise.
It whispered like honey,
slid smooth down my veins,
said, “I’ll heal your hurt, hush your hunger,
pull the storm from your skull.”
And it did.
Oh, it did.
The world slowed
colors stretched into forever, and my chest unclenched like a fist finally letting go.
But the bottle had teeth.
The pill had claws.
The powder carried a price tag I couldn’t read at first.
Every high built a higher wall.
Every flight carved a deeper fall.
The nectar that kissed me sweetly at midnight
bit me raw by dawn.
It is love that leaves bruises.
A friend who steals your shoes while you sleep.
A healer who poisons the wound so you’ll crawl back begging for the cure.
They don’t tell you the double-edged truth:
that the elixir doesn’t choose.
It cuts both ways
one side silk, one side steel.
And you,
you are the bleeding in between.
So I stand with the glass in my hand,
heart trembling on the rim.
Asking myself
is it medicine?
Or is it blade?
And the silence answers,
“Both.”
Lightning in a bottle
Your lips on mine
The power of your sighs
Too busy catching
Stars
That fell from your eyes
To notice
The forked tongue kiss
Desperation, draw me not like magnets pull
But once again let saneness possess me in full
Do not ravage me like a loin upon its prey
Block not the seeds of thoughts that come to save the day
Like limbs of a tree in the presence of a gale force wind
The heavy weight of thy encumbrance makes me bend
As a cookie being crushed underneath a fisted hand
Sapping my power, I become a broken man
Hope beyond my greatest self, suddenly appears
Dashing all desperate thoughts, releasing all my fears
Focused like a camera’s lens, my eyes see a way
Attitude and mindful thought, must have their say
Ideals forming one by one, possibilities
Desperation lost this time, healed is my choice of realities
Being pulled under.
Like a lily pad going ‘boop.’
Bobbing around, then nothing.
No amount of clearing my mind will undo it.
A spider whisper.
He likes me.
Prickling like his legs.
As if I’m in a dome.
Pulled under.
There are other people who have the slobbering feeling under their hair.
Faded out.
Like a pinecone with its edges shaved.
Fingers focusing.
With gripping finger pads that do nothing.
And the kitchen is always a mess of weird things.
Bugs and things.
My edges shaved down and caved in a little.
Grappling under the ice, but there’s no water, just feet of ice.
Someone else used to live here.
He was like a centipede to me.
Everyone is like a centipede to me.
Climbing the walls.
So am I.
Always around in the basement.
Depression.
Is when you are a spider, centipede, lily pad, or pinecone.
And could get crushed any moment.
But you don’t.
Pocket-Gazes
Night depressed—
black spirits, spiders,
demanding, retorting,
an empty vessel, titanic with trauma.
A downturned smile, flagellate,
disillusioned, demoted, disinterested—
dystopian dysmorphia.
Dolls.
Masks.
Spills.
Blood.
Oxygen.
Water.
Decaying. Degrading. Devolving.
Despair, disaster, disappointment—
disappear.
The lexicon collapses inward,
a ladder whose rungs only fall.
Sand sighs. Water shifts.
Hands disembodied.
Faces detached,
checked out.
I flail,
a swimmer drowning in a teaspoon.
Watermelon empathy—
bloated, barren.
A clock face melting, Dalí’s sky.
I am Picasso’s fractured mouth.
I am Van Gogh’s shell-ear,
smashed on the rocks.
Amy Winehouse cries, hollow,
vodka-veined, restrained
inside a music box.
Maya’s muteness.
Florence’s failure.
Mary Seacole’s poverty.
Nightingale’s lamp guttering.
Angelou’s song stilled.
Seacole’s hands trembling empty.
Yet outward—
instead of inward,
instead of into my pocket-gazes—
there might be,
just might be,
a shimmer of stardust,
a touch of moonlight.
Hope, a dot of light
in a cavern of dark.
And yet,
it illuminates the sky.
Never been to jail,
But my thoughts come,
Tattered and confined,
Like the two cellular bars—
That confine me.
Where there once was room for two
Now stands a solitary mast,
On an empty prairie
Whose sole conversation is—
Whispers to the wind
Where we used to laugh,
Now only silence's tyranny rules—
And dead signals from you.
The nights now fold like collars
And I button the silence over my throat
Tightly, chocking...
Enervating.
Storms are normal, they say.
But this came like the devil’s wind—
Stripped the roof, left me clutching splinters.
When I needed your anchor,
I found only static.
Like the noise before the storm
Now these distances are cold—
To the touch,
And without coverage.
Now I teeter,
Rust consuming my base,
Like a diseased splinter.
Should I rush the edge?
And take flight
Or harness my emptiness
On the masts high?
Or medicate to cure—
This disease?
Confined, drink won’t satiate
And hope is a sardonic—
Voice
Should I shout?
So you hear my cry
Or should I stay this way?
Let the signal die
Or stay,
And fight—
The demon in my ceiling?
Or pull the cord…?
I felt it break,
I saw the shards,
the frame hanging limply
in it's wake as it crashed down.
I never wanted anything but her,
so I kept the curtain open.
But now the glass shines, where it was
embedded deep inside my disembodied soul.
I try and try to pick up the pieces
but they cut at my skin.
I struggle through the pain
the glass still shines without her.
I can fix the shards
of the window
but there is nothing
left inside.
I could reach for the pieces
but all that would do is hide the tell-tale tracks
of a poisoned soul cut too deep,
to ever be whole.
The more I try
the more I scream.
That's the price
to ever love again.
Glass scattered
to the mist,
but that's what I get
for feeling this…
I am suddenly walking so much slower.
Drowning in my deepening sadness,
As the autumn leaves shower
Unto me as I feel life is meaningless.
Geese are never all alone.
They live everywhere together.
But I am an ugly gosling always alone.
Meanwhile my family has each other.
Geese are always flying free.
While I live so flightlessly,
They live their lives and just be.
I am on my own and free, but I'm lonely.
Having a run, but not in hand,
Excited for I know my prize is grand.
It’s time to draw, but not from the deck,
I drew too much, now my figure’s a wreck.
Making lines, my soul further in debts,
I add more lines, I like placing bets.
Instead of pounds, I use my own,
A little more cautious, now down to the bones.
A little on edge, for my cover mustn’t be blown,
Acting as stoic as possible,
Expression like stone.
I try and do my best bluff,
But maybe I didn’t try hard enough.
I might tap-out, for luck’s not in my favour,
My turn is overdue, I should’ve signed that waiver.
Knowing if I lose, the cost will be major,
But I’m not too scared,
For my life is something I often wager.
Specific Types of Depression Poems
Read wonderful depression poetry on the following sub-topics:
anxiety, clinical, cope with, dark, deep, hope, inspirational, loneliness, love, metaphor, sad, slam, overcoming, rhyme
and more.
Definition | What is Depression in Poetry?
Poems Related to Depression
distress, downheartedness, unhappiness, desperation, bummer, melancholy, heavyheartedness, heaviness of heart, bottom out, hard times, rainy days,