Poem: Depression by Thola Antamu

He sits in his cave, cold, alone and unable to stand up.

He can see the light.

At certain times of the day the sun shines in and warms his existence.

At certain times the sun shines in and cuddles him.

Most of the time his mind screams blinding noise.

Most of the time it is only himself he destroys.

But sometimes us.

Sometimes he hears us.

Sometimes he scares us.

Some of the time he can lift his arms,

Reach out, speak perfect sense,

Smile and light up the space for a while.

Not often.

Less now then back then.

Now his cave is all that he sees.

Without knowing why but selfishly.

He lives, waiting for what?

Death maybe.

It is unclear to me.

But he lives, alone,

In our home.

His cold cave.

Thola Antamu. 18 May 2016.

POET. PRINCESS. PERFORMER

Twitter: @tholaantamu

Blog: www.thegirlwhofoundpower.wordpress.com

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