Novel & Cerita Poetry Books About Depression

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with bitter laughter. I was losing my grip. I stumbled to my feet, shattering the vase on my dresser. The sound of breaking glass was cathartic. More. I flung open my closet, ripping clothes from hangers. Sobbing, I tore through my room, destroying everything. Papers, books, photos – all scattered, shredded. My reflection stared back from the shattered mirror. A stranger, broken and shattered. I collapsed amidst the chaos, exhausted. Depression's heavy chains wrapped around me.

I break myself, With words, thoughts, From my own mind. Everything I ran away from, I became. Everything I tried not to be, Everything I walked away from, I see them now. Taunting me, laughing at me, For my darkness was my fault, No other's. So, when I love, it's living death. I walk alone in this path, I made darkness my creed, Formed depression, With hands of flawless poetry. I created my demons, Now I'm haunted by them. Everything I am,

to make that final spiritual journey where the Goddess would alleviate this crushing heartbreak and grant me peace. Depression is a poison of the heart and mind. It spreads like rust and tarnishes the soul, corroding its way through to the core until you begin to diminish, fall into ruin, beyond salvation, into this pit of despair that you can't crawl out from. The voices grow louder here; they are repetitive, grinding you down until all that's left is to accept your fate. They're right. What am I? I am nothing. I have nothing left. I am worthless. I am better off dead.

which filled me with a sudden surge of urgency, But as I went further, I found myself sinking into a pool of depression as nothing seemed to ring a bell, not even my photo with Oliver could spark a light in my mind, A great sense of sadness overwhelmed me instead, which threatened to break me down, dampening my mood, even as I swam in a sea of depression, which made me toss the photo book away, As those feelings lingered, I heard a knock on the door, thinking it was a maid, I responded dryly, "Come in," Immediately the door opened, I got up on my feet, as I forced a smile to my face, to make the sadness that had gripped my heart, since I didn't want anyone to worry about me,

my depression and anxiety laughed at me. I finally moved to the bed and covered myself with the duvet so no sounds would come out. I lay their blocking the whole world undecided, trying to stay alive before I went back. I found a razor blade made two thin lines in my thigh before writing a strong clear message. I hate myself. The words appeared beautifully in dotted lines full of blood and I struggled to bite back the tears as I opened an old book and read a poem. I'm gonna cry In solemn silence That's where I lie

I continued, keeping my eyes fixed on my pale, skinny fingers clutched around my knees, “and goes back to reading. But then there’s a tap on his window, and a raven flies in. He asks it questions, and it only answers with one word: ‘nevermore.’ He asks it about Lenore, but still its reply remains the same. “The man asks the raven if he will join Lenore in heaven when he dies, if their souls will be joined once more. At the raven’s answer – you guessed it, ‘nevermore’ – the man says, well, ‘be that our word of parting’ – he wants it to leave. It is a reminder of death, yet it sits, unmoving, watching him as he dissolves further into madness. Death remains with him, as it does with us all.” “G

I want to quote Hazel Grace Lancaster, the main character of the famous book The Fault in Our Stars by John Greene, when she said that "depression is the side effect of dying". Indeed it is. My aunt wasn't literally on the brink of death. But ever since Allen had died, she appeared to be so every day. I want to mention another quote I saw on the internet. It was something about being sad, and it goes, "Suicide doesn't kill people, sadness does".

She looked through the box again and saw the book from ma'am Shell's library. Blue: oh my goodness. I didn't return this. Hmmm, I guess it's Now mine. Let me look through it. She saw a song that caught her attention. She looked through the lyrics and found out they were pointing at her life. She became sad and depressed. Took the book and laid down, then began to sing the song. Soon her mother came in Ma'am Nina : Blue, I've looked behind the cave and it's really beautiful. You should go and take a look and stop being depressed always

I pulled one out at random, a collection of poetry, and began to read. I sat on the couch, surrounded by the silence of the beach house, lost in the words of the poetry book. The verses spoke of love, loss, and longing. I felt a pang in my chest as I read, recognizing the emotions that had been swirling inside me. The poet's words were like a mirror, reflecting my own thoughts and feelings back at me.

Chiara The days dragged by, fuzzy and colorless, like the heavy curtains that kept my room in constant gloom. Since the box had arrived, since I had seen what was inside, the outside world had lost its luster. I felt lost and guilty. The distant laughter, the birdsong, even the jasmine scent of the mansion's gardens, all seemed a distant, unreachable echo. Depression was a thick veil that covered me, drowned me, and anchored me to the bed with an invisible but unbreakable force.