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“Depression
is nourished by a lifetime of ungrieved and unforgiven hurts.”
Is a depression quote that sings so true. Like
sad poems, we have our favorite
songs or literature that we read or listen to overcome our
depression. The daily stressors of life are overwhelming for
everyone at times. Depression poetry can be the inspiration
needed to move forward when all other resources have been
exasperated. Writing your way out of depression often times is
the antidote to allowing it to take over your life. Depression
poems are an avenue for one to freely express what their
emotions have long been wanting to express from their soul.
Depression poems allow one to introspect
and let emotions flow through pen and paper. Sadness from
lost love or
death of a loved one can hinder
resilience and ability to handle with daily stressors because of
depression. Such poetry can help break one free from
depression’s shackles.
In teen life
there is many lost love and
sad love and one will find
teen life poems, affected by depression, where it challenges
their creativity and tends to go within one’s self. In doing so
one begins to question everything.
Sad teen poems that speak of life’s struggles allow them to
introspect and let their emotions flow.
Depression poems can break away
isolationist feelings and help one self to conquer their mixed
emotions. Such emotions that can grasp a person and cripple
every aspect of their life, depression poetry can aid the mind
and help better understand what the source of the melancholy is
coming from.
Depression can paralyze and drain us, making it a very real and dangerous illness. Depression is not easily described when there are so many forms that can ale us. In every aspect of life, depression may challenge our lives. There is so much going on in this world that it becomes too overwhelming with stress and struggles life, seemingly generously gives us. Statistics say that approximately 18.8 million America adults are affected by clinical depression this year. So how can one deal with the overwhelming effects of betrayal, loneliness, and everyday aggravations in life, along with many other forms of depression? Depression eventually will distract us from our daily activities, leaving the allusion of being alone, even when there is a world of people around going about their own life’s trials. Poetry has been ranked as a top form of therapy and is an avenue for the seemingly impervious emotions, eagerly wanting a way out to relieve us of the burdens we hold.
“Depression is a confused and hopeless state that drives people to desperate lengths. All I can say is don’t be afraid to talk about it and try to be open if others are trying to reach out.”
| Poems about Depression |
| Sad Poems |
Death Poems |
Sad Love Poems |
Sad Teen Poems |
| Life And Death Poems |
Suicide Poems |
Love and Depression Poems |
Suicide Note Poems |
| Teen Depression Poems |
Friend Depression Poems |
Broken Heart Poems |
Feeling Suicidal Poems |
Family Poem of the Day
JUBILANT FATHER
His face is like a sun, warms the moon beside him.
She´s grown full; tonight begins the waning.
The tide pulls through her very bones,
her form aches as each wave crests.
The earth pulse, heavy, blood warm within her
Beats new chords, old sun god chants.
"You are the first mother and the last,
all spring flesh has traveled through you."
Aztec plumed and gold beaded,
your priest kneels at the holy alter,
gathers each salt pearl shed, nectar for his sacrament.
You are the temple,
we pilgrims swept through the gates,
bent figures know the scent and petals of your presence,
spread our arms to harvest blossoms,
and your priest, sun struck, kneels beside you.
- CRISTINE McAULIFFE
Quote of the Day
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JUBILANT FATHER
His face is like a sun, warms the moon beside him.
She´s grown full; tonight begins the waning.
The tide pulls through her very bones,
her form aches as each wave crests.
The earth pulse, heavy, blood warm within her
Beats new chords, old sun god chants.
"You are the first mother and the last,
all spring flesh has traveled through you."
Aztec plumed and gold beaded,
your priest kneels at the holy alter,
gathers each salt pearl shed, nectar for his sacrament.
You are the temple,
we pilgrims swept through the gates,
bent figures know the scent and petals of your presence,
spread our arms to harvest blossoms,
and your priest, sun struck, kneels beside you.
- CRISTINE McAULIFFE |
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