Midnight Soliloquy

by Talia Franks

Depression has sapped creativity from me.
Anxiety has ramped up my need to be
            Alive
But that’s not how I feel right now.
Not when so much is lost
and so much of what we found
            hurts.
I hurt. Everywhere. Every step I take, every encounter with stairs.
Every bite I take, every swallow I make –
Ash.
I can barely remember to take out the trash.
This is what depression does to you.
It seeps into your bones, it makes its home, until your home – is not home.
            These four walls are a privilege, not a prison. And yet they hurt to live in.
The crow haunts my dreams.
The deaths we cannot count.
Hypocrisy reigns supreme.
I’m so hungry, so hungry, I could scream.
And yet, I don’t eat a thing.
            Will we know which one is the final warning?
            How long will we be in mourning?
And yet, here this midnight poem ends.
For I can hear the birds, and see dawn rising.