Darkness of My Soul, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The sun will rise today as any oth’r.
For some the day too will be like any
other. No vengeance to arouse pother.
Just a treadmill of life with so many.
Today walked to the street, there is the sun.
Headed east to feel its heat on my face.
Strangely notice, sting or warmth there was none.
My shadow before me in the wrong place.
Blackness of a fog was now upon me.
Mind fused poison like water to sponge.
Confused, soon I do not know where I be,
And thoughts so new in my mind soon expunge,
As a hundred times before made my plea,
Please Holy God from this disease set me free.
This is my poem, this is me. I suffer from depression. One of millions who surrender control of their minds to some unknown demon. You awake, the sun is shining, you feel great. Then without warning there is a haze. For some the haze is accompanied by violent headaches. The pounding, the pounding as if you were at work at a foundry. You close your eyes wishing for it to stop. For me, I sit motionless. some times it works. But the cloud remains. I’ve lost count but I think this is my eighth day under this cloud. I wrote this poem last night to bring attention to people like me. Our souls are dark not through choice,