Poetry On Narrative: Sad

Sad

I thrive in my depression

As empty as I feel.

The tears help me

Create my space

Filling pages with

Nothing but fears.

Writing and typing

Till I can no longer hear.

And yet,

all my friends

always ask why

my playlist

is all sad songs.

I'll go on to tell them

it adds to my writing.

They'll go on to call me

mad but I've realized

they just don't understand/

when I took my stand

my therapist made me feel

grand for pouring my feelings

on a paper rather then letting

blood spill those days brought

me nothing but chills.

my psychiatrist

had me on sleeping pills just so

things wouldn't go bad.

my time with my medication

everyone seemed judgemental.

making it seem that my episodes

were accidental I told them no

my mind just refused to be gentle.

my parents thought I was just being

temperamental and yet in the middle of

all of this i still felt special knowing

my voice would tremble after this and yet

once i felt leveled I would thrive making this

experience fundamental.