Is Depression Real? Can Cymbalta Help? - a Poem about Depression
April is National Poetry Month
For National Poetry Month, I thought I'd answer a question asked on HubPages, answering with a poem that addresses the thoughts and feelings of those living with depression. I hope you are appreciating National Poetry Month by reading--or writing--more poetry than you usually would! #15
Is there help for depression?
Depression hurts. Cymbalta can help.
Well, that's what we hear...as I start to yelp.
I'm not making fun or taking this lightly
'cause this funk at its worst is dark and unsightly
Lost in my thoughts with little recourse
but just hang in there with forlorn remorse.
So sorry that I have to be this damn way.
If you don't believe me, you don't have to stay.
I don't like this either. I can't just cheer up.
I don't choose the deluge that makes me erupt
with clamoring emotions tight in my brain,
my heart overrun with storm clouds and rain.
If I could be happy with some magic pill,
Don't you think that I would? I assure you I will.
I enjoy the bright sun and the gentle moonlight,
but the monster that lurks in my head I must fight.
- Please Try to Understand Clinical Depression
Many people think that depression is just a temporary state that people can "get over." What people need to understand is that clinical depression is a medical condition that people cannot simply decide to "snap out of." Still, taking "baby steps"...
As much as I block it, it's always in there.
It's not that I'm acting, or that I don't care.
With the blessings I have and my life going well,
To still have to fight the darkness is hell.
I try to be light, my heart heavy and raw.
I don't want to be broken. If you knew what I saw
When I look in the mirror, it makes my soul whine
to see despair in the face that has to be mine.
The sadness persists...it comes and it goes.
It thrashes around...I'm trapped in its throes.
And when it keeps staying...and hanging around,
it thwarts my brave efforts; in its abyss I drown.
The smile on my face hides what's raw and what's real.
Perhaps over time, and with patience I'll heal.
But I'll never be normal like you want me to be.
Maybe I can be happy. But I'll never be free.
Cymbalta can't help. Depression is real.
I can never atone for the way that I feel.
Give me some space, but hold out your hand.
Just know that I'm trying...the best that I can.