Gray

Just some afternoon anhedonia.

I'm feeling rather incomplete today. 

The sky's a static sort of gray. 

I'm spending my time holding back a sigh. 

I could draw, or write, or play,

But nothing I do would change the distant sky.

  

So I do nothing again today, 

And wait for the clouds to clear away. 

When night falls, I think I'll cry. 

And just like yesterday, 

I'll let those bitter raindrops be my lullaby.

  

Even if I ran somewhere faraway, 

Those clouds still wouldn't stray. 

Will they follow me until the day I die? 

I want to believe they won't always stay, 

But some days even the sun feels like a lie.

Author's Note

Another poem I wrote several months ago that's still quite relevant to me. I struggle almost every day now with feelings of anhedonia--which, if you aren't familiar with the term, is the inability to feel pleasure. My heart goes out to anyone who can relate to this; it's a heavy burden to bear, but we've gotta keep trudging ahead. All that said, feel free to leave me any constructive criticism or advice, I appreciate it!

Reviews

[The Iron Horseman]

This is a very interesting, well-written piece. It captures the mood very well and makes the comparison between emotions and weather very succinctly. I think everybody is negatively affected by those gray days, but it must be infinitely worse for someone suffering from anhedonia. I wish you well, in every sense.

[Bee]

Thank you very much. Yeah, I think everyone has a listless gray day every once in while, but depression means a lot more of them in my experience. The weather comparison came easily to me, since living in the Seattle area like I do means seeing a lot of literal gray skies, haha. Anyway, thank you again for the review!

[The Iron Horseman]

You are very welcome.

[Windy Gale]

Raindrops as your lullaby is a great line! You did a good job. I also like the static sort of gray line. This poem might have carried more impact without a rhyme scheme.