Best Depressionpeople Poems
My words has fade away,
The beauty within writting poems,
Has lost my ways,
Sadness walks in my way,
Tears run in my face,
Feeling down here and there,
Depressed night by day,
Wishing I can change things in an instane,
Wishing to be a real superman,
Wishing to save my people in my country,
It really hurts me deep inside my heart,
To see young and innocent people die,
For freedom we never had,
70 million people in Iran,
Struggle for 30 years,
Protesters every where,
Around the world we live in today,
They say,"United Kingdom pay more attention"
People see the news from Iran,
How come no body is a leader in this world?
Why is everybody scared?
To make the first move?
Why can't be just over,
I pray to God and his powers,
To give my people: hope, freedom etc.
To live in this earth with joy and happiness.
Demons can not always be slain,
In attempts to make life better.
Sometimes, the greatest "go getter"
Answers to the call of the pain.
Pain always separates the sane
People from being eye wetters,
Or from people whose death letter
Is the only thing that remains.
Not all people get back their groove.
This fact can not be debated.
Mentally, people try to move
Each issue that was created.
Now, this evidence clearly proves
That life was meant to be hated.
I get the feeling that people are telling me to step back from the edge.
I don’t know where to start with people anymore.
I get the feeling there is no edge.
I usually start with my eyes though my heart is a sinking ship.
I am apprehensive over writing this in a first-person narrative.
I get the feeling I’m telling myself to step back from the edge.
All alone sitting here feeling lost,
I hate this life,
I don't even know why,
I meet certain people in my life,
I feel frustrated inside,
I hate the people I love,
So much that I don't know how to explain,
People I love hurt me the most,
I hate to love someone the most,
Willing to do anything for these who I love,
But when I ask them for a simple favore,
They walk away from it,
And say my way or the high way!
Is that fair? What they do?
All they care about is themselves,
How there life is complicated,
Its all about them,
They don't know what is love,
Or where it comes from,
They might say it,
But their actions says otherwise,
Love, love, love is all in the air,
Falling all over like rain.
Form:
Failure is what I am called
Since the time I can recall
Born on the 7th
Which is generally a jinx
I grew up being called a minx
My mother died when I was two
And people said with it I had something to do
I became an object to tease
It took my inner peace
Wherever I went I would cause hindrance
So I started believing in my unluckiness
I grew up to be a freak
And people would call it a family streak
I could never complete my studies
Like the rest of my street buddies
The street urchin became my love
But she thought of me as a pet dove
`Marry me’ I said one day to her
And she called me a failure
And here I am standing today
About to bid everyone good day
For today is the day of my execution
Maybe this would complete the calculation
Money is the bane of man
Since the day that time began
It has started wars
Invasions onto foreign shores
It is involved in the death of men
And continues to be again and again
The only thing people are willing to kill for
No matter how much they have they always want more
We need it to stay alive
Without it we cannot survive
A necessary evil in our every day lives
We think it helps us but it only deprives
Teathered down by our lust for it
To its will we all submit
Now all mankind bitter and awry
A truth that we chose to deny
It makes our choices for us
Leaving others to clean up our mess
We act like this is not the facts
But for our ignorance we pay a heavy tax
We throw money at every thing that goes wrong
And we the people just go along
It destroies our moral foundation
We corrupted it as a nation
We are all to blame
We treat life like it is one big game
Money becomes our only answer
It has become a cancer
For which there is no foreseeable cure
It is a condition we must endure
2/28/09
Dark she looked in the pursuit of light,
someone told her she ain't worth a fight.
Crazy she appeared in the shadow of the unknown,
restless is her mind in the company of the fearful,
ugly she seemed as per their eyes of beauty,
unworthy is her fate as decided by the lesser Gods,
“denial should be alloted” said the people called odds.
Hopes and dreams should be ceased,
must not behave like a lioness unleashed,
try not to attain any success ever reached,
for fortune must get her skin bleached.
Sad they were to watch her leave,
in no case should she feel apart from grieve.
Not their fault but fate,
prayers should be answered but late.
Their skin color is to blame,
nothing they should ever claim.
Victory is not a tree they can climb,
white and only fair is the sublime,
equality a thought can a soul remind?
Dark defeating fair is not fine,
lesser Gods trade into the Rhine,
their and only there is the shrine,
putting them down is not a crime,
neither do i need to rhyme,
this color.....is not mine.
It's a journey people embark,
so dark the color which calls them 'dark'.
note: this is about people who are called 'dark' because of their skin color, also, talks about
how another race ignores and ill-treats them.
I'm stupid.
I've fallen for the same pitfalls
that I sighted in
the distance
and said that
I was too smart
I was too ambitious
my potential was too great
to fall for them
and yet
I've fallen.
I hurt everyone with whom I come in contact.
I use people up until
I'm bored
and then I discard them
and move on,
and then I cry
because
I'm alone.
I'm stupid
for writing this as a poem
because it's a really bad poem.
It's just proof
that I'm self-indulgent -
extrapolate that
and you've got the proof
that whatever I said in here
is true!
And on top of that
this is a first draft,
and I'm too lazy to re-read it
or re-format it
yet I expect you all to read it
and comment
or whatever?
So self-indulgent
as to press "enter"
every so often
and change this into some sort of semblance of verse. Maybe I only write this to prove to
myself, argue to myself, how awful I am, so that I can continue to act stupidly, in my own
interest, and use people up, less as an unfortunate event and more as "business as usual."
Wow, there's a lot of clichés in this poem! Oh well. I'm not going to fix them. Hey, aren't you
bored by this yet? Aren't you upset that you read this far? It's like I've sent out some sort of
sentry to do my dirty work of being an obnoxious, stupid individual when I'm not around to
do it myself. And see how I re-formatted this to not be in verse but to be prose after I
acknowledged how arbitrary the parsing the wording into verse was? Did I fool you, however
briefly, into thinking that maybe it was an interesting choice? Well, it's not! It's really an
uninteresting choice. See, I did put a little bit of effort into the spacing it into verses back
when I was doing it. Am I trying to bore you away from reading this? Why am I so self-
deprecating? Can I truly be so self-centered if subconsciously I'm trying to get you to not
pay attention to me? Is it self-conscious if I've acknowledged it? Wow, this has really fallen
apart. Oh well. Anyway, I'm stupid, blah blah blah, I'm the worst, but really, I do feel this
way, and am constantly lamenting (ooh, poetic-sounding word!) this fact. Otherwise, or
maybe notwithstanding that, this has been a waste of time for all of us!
For every person is counted in a
population
Hated nor loved accepted nor faded
Like a flower in a patch
Dished out in a bunch or one single
alone
A life be saved symbolizes love
Even if no one intends to
Like a flower gave shows care
Multiple people enjoying the
beautiful weather with friends or
alone
Like a flower in the summer
Can shine just as well during night
or day
A sad loved one passes away
Having a room full of people with
sympathy or not
Like a flower for sorrow
The forget-me-not handed out for
love
Left forgotten on the street with
help or left to die
Like a flower in the winter
Gardens wither away
We rest in peace spending an
eternity in a wooden cage
Buried or cremeted
Like a flower in a cemetery
What lays on top be with us life to
death
Just like the flowers
My life has sucked. people hating never blaming.
I have no love to give or take.
No one is nice anymore for goodness sake.
I was d and abused.
You people always get to choose.
being beat,being scared.
I have a reason for why I share.
Having ADHD is not to hard,but when i'm bullied and I'm teased.
Well that's just down right mean.
having no one to talk to.
Having nothing to do.
What do I have to do?
boys hating me instead of loving.
This boy I know, I'm really in love.
Form:
The Real Me
I always seem to be the exclude.
Probably because I am never in the mood.
Why cant people just understand?
But I guess you cant get it firsthand.
I live in my own small world alone.
Like a dead dial tone.
No one can see the things I see.
Not just because I am carefree.
Maybe someday people will realize,
I don’t like to socialize.
I’m not the person you should admire.
My humanity is caught in barbed wire.
Some people say I’m ironic.
When simply I am moronic.
I am a little messed up, so what?
This is the real me like it or not.
Choking wheezing kicking screaming
slowly deepening into uncontiousness
drowning rope shots guns hearts
and hopes fathers daughters and
moms high schools homecomings
and proms they all stair me in the
face like i'm a big disgrace but it
could all end if i make the choice
to live without a body or voice as
a figure that walks among the died
and watch as people just turn there
head see all the people cry and
wonder why but its all my choice if
i want to make it that way i just have
to not use my VOICE
by cortney stone
The scars that are in bedded in her skin, are the
scars she made to justify her sins,
When people see them they say it was for attention,
but the way she sees it was a cry for redemption,
They are dark with anger and deep with pain, people
don't know they all are not sane,
Their always thinking it was a horrible way to deal, but
she felt different because they didn't no what to feel,
No one gets better with others negative thoughts, they
just get worse and become not a lot.
Form:
I always seem to be the exclude.
Probably because I am never in the mood.
Why cant people just understand?
But I guess you cant get it firsthand.
I live in my own small world alone.
Like a dead dial tone.
No one can see the things I see.
Not just because I am carefree.
Maybe someday people will realize,
I don’t like to socialize.
I’m not the person you should admire.
My humanity is caught in barbed wire.
Some people say I’m ironic.
When simply I am moronic.
I am a little messed up, so what?
This is the real me like it or not.