The Loneliness Hours

The loneliness hours are often

worse than the nightmare itself.

All the life in front of me.

I'm afraid of what it means.

Wake up in an empty house

like forgotten pocket change.

I hold my tongue,

but there is a war inside.

Plenty full of madness.

I roll over & hug my knees.

The electricity of anxiety.

Blackness of the unknown.

Trapped in a room of

razor blades & unreality.

Wishing it were different for me

between thin white walls. 

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

This eye opening piece of poetry describes the experience one feels going through depression. I felt much of my own personal journey with the disease in these insightful words of yours. Thank you for sharing your poem with us.