Depression is now a broken toy

By DeBorah McCreath

depression is now a broken toy

that was never a joy just a frustration

that doesn't need to be repaired

nor stared at from your window pane

we're not inviting friends to play with it

since never again will the gifts brought be given

away nor re gifted there's no need for any unwrapping

nor putting these feelings upon some special shelf

merely adding it to the broken pile

that we no longer need because it's useless

as the driver takes it away never to be seen again

we can now run with glee throughout every room

of our minds grateful for the freedom to be our whole

selves with new ideas we've never met because they

were forever beyond the barricade of unworthiness

which has withered away revealing fresh ground

bursting with energy and ideas that is not afraid

of the dark or the light because understanding breathes

within the chambers opening the shades of power

singing welcome to your life yet lived we're so

glad to be heard by the peace that has blossomed here.


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  • Previous Poem: Anything by Torre Truba