Thoughts whilst stood on the East Yorkshire Bus.

Dear Depression,

Today I beg you to leave me alone,

To the beating of my heart your dead weight leaves me silent and cold.

Stop making me think about death,

Everyone knows you dont know whats best,

I’m not giving a spot light or speech,

but its about time this place is opened up,

So we can great you in and speak,

No matter how many times people remind me I am not what I see.

I look at myself, negative words,

I drawn  out like a pimple on my cheek, I pull them like the hairs out of place with my eyebrows,

I hate my hair, my face, my body, I hate it.

Everyday these thoughts race, thanks to you,

and with grain in my hand, I feed the vultures,

the wolves still lick at the reminiscence.

 

I see you there depression,

friends,

with the ghosts of past, future, present,

I need no reminders, of whats been going on.

 

No fortune teller can predict,

foggy bus window, streaky bare,

my reflection I see other bodies behind me also,

Surround me, around me,

so many bags hands,

children crying.

 

I enjoy the fact,

I need not use my legs,

today with such dreaded rain fall.

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