He is everywhere inside me. A micropoem about confusion and worry. And a little bit of love.
Let's carve our names in our tree! 🙂 A poem about togetherness and separation. And how badly I crave his garden. (If you're reading this, I love you if you didn't already know).
Awake to reason
CROSSROADS. MISTAKES. SINS. DEPRESSION. HOPELESSNESS.
I am a wasteland
Island of a thousand fucking tears - depression fucking avenue - loneliness - isolation - heartbreak - unrequited love
A poem about the devil in hell or about depression. Depression IS hell.
They always want the young silver instead of the rare gold.
I need him
There it was, labeled to me - I, the addresseeTrying on lovers because revenge tasted sweetlyInserting the blade ever so neatly -Ensuring the heart was severed completely Burning through dreams like an oil field in the night Running out of fuel and the zest for a life Looking back but never having any foresight Dancing … Continue reading Karma
We are all carrying such heavy loads. A poem about that.
Depression is ugly business... a poem says it's so.
Keeping it real, yo. A poem about depression.
No matter what I do he's on my mind...
To dream a life of pleasure, Reside a world of hell. Demands partial reason, Denies existence well. A star so dimly lit, Still reached the darkest soul. And in her heart he bit, Consumed it, left a hole. © Delia Ross. 2010
We've been lost on the same road Making circles back again We've been chasing all the ghost Who will destroy us in the end Along the way we have passed Pretending each were a friend How long can we last Avoiding roads full of sin What test do we pass Where does the road to … Continue reading Chasing Ghosts
Is there a special niche needed to get through to you? How much time should one have to pursue? You threw down the gauntlets and then you withdrew You said you'd be back but it's clear that we're through I could wait long hours and it's something you knew Feeling something real has been long … Continue reading Through To You
Always alone, what else do we know? We have grown accustomed to loom Universally we stand connected By lines to each other's doom How erroneous to accept The progress of dreaming, The TV is on, my computer is streaming All the world is aglow... © Delia Ross. 2010