The weight and the flame

Heres a poem I've wrote for all those who are battling depression and suicidal thoughts just know u are not alone.

There is a shadow that sleeps beside me,
breathing in rhythm with my pulse.
It tells me the sky has no light left,
that mornings are only tricks of the sun.

I have sat at the edge of that silence,
listening to the pull of the dark water below,
wondering if sinking might feel
like finally exhaling.

But something
small, stubborn, trembling
keeps threading itself into my ribs.
A fragment of laughter remembered.
A hand I once held.
The smell of rain on warm pavement.

It’s not hope, not yet.
It’s simply the refusal
to hand my story to the shadow.

So I rise,
even when rising feels like lifting
a mountain with my chest.
I breathe,
even when air tastes like nothing.

I whisper into the dark,
"I am still here."
Not because the pain is gone,
but because I have not let it
claim my name.

Reviews

[ThreeWrites]

I like this poem, and I do, but wish I related more, I hope you have a great time writing.

[D. Mansfield]

I love this poem, and can relate