Tag: The Figure

The Figure

The Figure

 

I wrote this poem for University a year ago, I was trying to personify depression make it something you could see physically. The figure in this poem is scary, ugly, dark and controlling which is what I feel what depression is.

 

The Figure

I edge through the scratched door.

There you are in the gloom,

Restlessly waiting for me.

Arms folded, head drooped.

You don’t look up as I enter,

You don’t have to see me.

Your black tangled filthy hair

Dangles on the dusty, dark floor.

Your dirty fingernails are sharp,

As the pool of blood drops down.

The fear is rising in my body,

As time goes reluctantly by.

Your head is slowly rising,

My heart starts to palpitate.

The sound of screaming,

Is ringing in my ears.

All I want is to escape,

But it’s keeping me in my place.

You look dead straight at me,

Your eyes are unblinking, lifeless.

You begin to shakily rise,

Like my presence brings you strength.

Your arm extends out to me,

You want me to join you.

With all my will power,

I step back as far as I can.

Your eyes slightly bulge in surprise,

And you roughly shake your bloody arm.

Your sinister eyes are now angry

As you suddenly grab at me.

Suddenly, I am alone,

I can feel it sinking in.

The figure isn’t real,

It is just in my head.

Yet it controls my life,

Makes me wish I was dead.

Everyone has their demons,

Yet mine seem to stay.

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