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All about depression
Depression is a shape poem
A difficult one in times of contemplation
A shape that gets you, almost in nothingness
Whispers darkness in the valley of your chest.
Where the minaret stood in the bed of the eternity
Till the very last minute, that along the way, divinity sent
Modernization knew demolishing much too well
and much too vivid in the end, to stress what it meant.
Oozing secretion dampens in cold and clutters on and on...
And we call it the pseudo-pen
That mentors to shift the shape
Straight path should be the straightest one, to be frank,
My utterance calms me there
As it does mostly, unconditionally enough
And I knew along the way, that
God is enough for any befitting pay stubs
To carve with a knife on any life, whatsoever.
Man is mortal.
Copyright ©
Tamanna Ferdous
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