I go into the room and -zap-
I get asked why I feel like crap
I carefully draw a very large map
showing why my mind is in scraps.

Zap, the machine goes,
Will this work? Who the hell knows,
Positive thinking, I suppose.
The good emotions should now grow

I wake up, don’t remember
In life, I’m not at my December,
My depression — I Hope it Dismembers,
In the meantime, treatment will give me tremors.

Zap Zap Zap away they go,
Hoping one more zap will help the low
Hoping this will take me back a time ago
when I didn’t feel life’s harsh blow.

--

--

I’ve got my head in the roses
A few hours without despair.
Some time before I disclose,
My pain and suffering to strangers.

The park is vast and serene,
But busy and annoying, too.
Nothing here is really that clean,
But people travel far to see.

I take a picture with the flowers,
Forgetting my despair, hopes and dreams.
currently not counting down the hours,
Until I have to go back to hospital.

I see two men performing Tai Chi,
each movement slow and devised,
Body, mind, and soul look free,
Will they come back to the hospital too?

I am now back at the hospital,
Not feeling so serene,
everything seems backwards now,
All the fun times are now unseen.

--

--

I’ve got a thread
A thread of life
I hold it always
Through joy and strife.

The years go on
The thread gets thinner
This is because
Trauma that simmers.

In the past
I’d take thread out for a walk
No hanging on
No need to talk.

I don’t remember these days
In fact I don’t remember at all
The day I held the thread slack
The day I didn’t fall.

Now things have changed
Life is scary to me
Thread is around my neck
Leaving only death to see.

Thread is strong, but thin,
Like a brittle autumn leaf
If I stop hanging on
I know it’ll bring relief.

I’m hanging on now
By a tiny strayed thread
Running out of time
Time until I am pronounced dead.

--

--

Dear Mother,
it’s me,
I know what you’ll say,
‘where’ve you been?’

You didn’t deserve
to be abandoned.
I don’t deserve your abuse,
I’m not a fan.

See I’ve been working
a lot on myself.
I’ve had to put family,
on a little shelf.

Like a very old photo album,
I’ve kept all the memories locked away.
except the bad ones,
they’re in my head each day.

I will however look back
on the good memories fondly,
but the painful memories?
Well — they’re why I’m in therapy.

I don’t have a lot to say,
That won’t make you defensive in every way.
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.
I’m sorry I suddenly went away.
What a price I’ve had to pay.
But I do think of you every day.

Hazel

--

--