This poem is one I wrote last year when I was feeling kind of depressed. Like, not all the way the depressed, but on the way there.

Everyone experiences depression differently, whether it’s a temporary depression due to temporary issues, or it’s a case of recurring major depressive disorder. So, this type of poem certainly won’t resonate with everyone.

But I wanted to make sure it’s clear: this is about depression. And I’m not experiencing these feelings right now, so please don’t worry about me <3

Black Hole

We can’t know
anything
not even ourselves
Who we are is just a story
we tell ourselves
A tree is a tree unless we say its not

You are you
unless
you say you’re not
We have an agreement
but everybody lies
We all shape the story to hurt less

We exist
Maybe we shouldn’t

There is nothing but ash