The Weeping Poet

A writer is depressed.

His words are depression.

His art is his life.

His metaphors mask sorrow.

Wordplay hides his cries.

The audience applauds.

He flips his frown,

but only on the surface.

One mask, two faces.

He cries in black ink.

His cries are silent,

but his words are loud.

The weeping poet;

Hiding behind his art.

©2017 Taihair Brown

depression

Darkness is more than the absence of light.

It’s a feeling of emptiness in oneself.

Words get caught in your throat,

leaving you unable to communicate the pain.

 

Darkness doesn’t come from the closing of eyes.

It’s not your inability to see that is lacking,

but what the world doesn’t see within you—

That invisible pain without an outward appearance.

 

Darkness is not the mere absence of windows

and there is no way to peer into someone’s soul.

No one can see the internal struggle you face.

All they see is the smile that masks that pain.

 

Darkness is not an appearance that one can see.

What your eyes do not witness can hurt worse—

Worse than any physical wound inflicted upon you.

Depression; the silent killer of the mind, body and soul.

Copyright © 2017 Taihair Brown