Do you see the tears run down my face?
Or are they only visible in your bills?
You write with the ease of my onsets of depression.
My best interests fades in the light of your own.
You go ahead and tell me it will be fine.
Perhaps I’ll swallow these lies along with the other fish in your aquarium?
I am not just another black and white movie in your life of color.
The pain,
Real.
Potent.
Desperate.
Collapsing.
But I am jovial and laugh upon my plastic thrown while asking with shifty, hesitant eyes,
“Is anybody using that knife?”
The creases in your face remind me of paper air planes I made when I was a kid.
The pauses conjoining your heavy sentences remind me of my grandfather.
The deep breath with the heavy sighs only add to your confusing circus performance.
You have paper framed on walls displaying your overwhelming competence.
What paper entitles the mingling in human lives to such an intricate degree?
Why don’t you run me off a copy of one as well?
I guess that slippery politician slipped by me.
Aren’t they crafty?
I am depressed I say.
I am miserable I moan.
I am helpless I cry.
You hear those words too often to care or are you just numb.
You know I am hopeless.
You know I am falling to my death.
I am falling with every passing day.
I am falling with every passing moment.
And while I freefall:
Do you ever go home and think of the lives you have ruined?
Do you ever think or ask yourself if you are doing the right thing?
Do you leave the misery along with the white coat at the office?
Na, you don’t really give a damn.
I don’t blame you- I probably wouldn’t either.
I am just another code to you.
I am just another one of your puppets.
Some succeed.
Some fail.
The price of the war.
You will see me next week you say
I smirk because I know one day there will not be a next week.
That maybe the only thing you can give me.
After all, you are fully qualified.
The best treatment.
I am a freak.
A contest entry
- here's to the losers II by risewiththesmoke.
300 points, ended June 7, 2007, 10 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - When things go to shit; [THE BLAME GAME, round 1] by Dawliah.
800 points, ended July 3, 2007, 26 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Give me another pill to take doctor, it will put a few more bills in your pocket, a few less in mine. Don't even make a difference anymore.
No! My knife! I steal! I steal. Giggling as I take another object that wil only help my disaster. We grin. We smile.. Hurts so bad. So good.
Shh! I'm that politician. And I'm hiding under your bed, photocopying degrees and handing them out at random.
They are desensitized to our emotions. Don't understand the depth of our hate. Of our pain. They sleep. We scream. They laugh. We bleed.
Hey! My strings/// Leave me alone.. I'm just a puppet.. A poppet.. Don't my strings... they tangle..
Next week. too late! Tomorrow! Tomorrow.. I need you.. Not another day.. I hate this so much...
I am a freak too.
<3
Good write.
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Good read. The progression from one line, from one thought to another was strong. Your descriptions of your opinion of the "doctor," your concerns, disappointments, and the depth of your pain made me feel them. Your expression was wonderfully dark.
“The most beautiful things are those that insanity prompts and reason writes."--Andre Gide
“The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things."
"The question is," said Humpty Dumpty,"which is to be master--that's all."--Lewis Caroll
Take the power that is your life and write, create, and live. Know that there are people who are not full of pretense and they don't judge with menace or malice.
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OK NOW !LOL
Boy, do I know how you feel! I am a manic depressive myself. I could have written this. I do have a poem called crock, and one called depression. It's the worst thing, I hate it. drs, counseling, yadda, yadda,yadda. Like take two of these and call me in the morning. Briliant, image filled piece you have penned here. I love it!
keep on penning
POETDONTKNOWIT
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this is good, and very realistic. A good doctor is hard to find. Often times they do treat the patient as though they are just a piece from an assembly line that they are inspecting, and on a production line at that, they have to move as fast as they can, and make you feel like an object. And God forbid you ask a question that requires any lengthy conversation. fortunately, most of the time I'm outspoken enough to tell them what I think, and quick to remind them that I am paying them for their time, and demand that they listen, or either pay me for mine and I'll gladly wait until they move on to the next rushed project and then return to me, where they can be thorough. I hope that this is not you that this poem is about, if it is...Tell em what you think about their conduct or find another doctor. Good luck and God Bless ( sorry for ramblin'
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Experience
Each segment of this poem is an experience - the sorrow and the 'clinical' brutality. The patient is not a mechanical object,s/he feels and the doctors should feel the pulse!
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i've been in this position, had too many doctors that just weren't good or what i needed. it wasn't until later in life that i found good doctors or maybe i got smarter at picking them out
doctors, like many other professionals have to maintain a distance from patients/clients. otherwise they'd be swallowed up. it's a job i could never do but anyway... as i read this i couldn't help remembering how many times i've sat and had these same thoughts run through my head while with a doctor/shrink/therapist. the realism is there in your words. i've been diagnosed with chronic depression and have lived with it about 20 years now. good doctors help. the thing is when you're in the deepest black it's hard enough seeing one doctor let alone finding energy or hope to look for another doctor that will work better for you. it's a nasty cycle.
in line 13 it should be 'throne' and not 'thrown'
peace to you
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You are not a damned freak and by god you will make it to next week
NowI know ill get the lecture that your writing isnt about you, but you cant tell me this isnt in the back of your damned mind, im too good for that one silly, you cant hide from me. Wonderful job yet again Max, you penned thisone out really well, I know you are so full of poetry rightnow but SLOW DOWN I can o nly read so fast here ok 
I love you and I am always here for you, I just hoe you know the extent to which i am here. Keep the pen flowing mi amor!
A&F
Emily -
This really struck a chord with me. I spent several years of my life seeing doctors much like the one described in this poem, and I can definitely relate to the emotions expressed here. I like the way you have both the angry perspective and the self-hatred perspective blended together-- very characteristic of depression, that feeling of "I don't blame you, I'm a freak". But then there's a bit of sarcasm, and I like that a lot. It's funny how easy it is to see through these people sometimes.
(I actually yelled something similar to the sentiments of this poem at a psychiatrist once. He just wrote down some more stuff about me displacing my anger and lacking self-control and god knows what else-- it was something new every week-- but that just made my point all the more valid. It's a shame that the people you pay to help you can sometimes make things ten times worse.)
Anyway, I really like this. It's very well-written and powerful. The tone is both sad and angry; both sarcastic and defeated. Nicely done.
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.WOW.
this is one of the most incredible poems i've read in a long time. i absolutely love the images you used and the way you combined them to create this mood and atmosphere. i started reading this and i couldn't stop. it was very thought-provoking; and i also loved the way the narrator is speaking directly to someone. all in all, awesome job - you definitely just made the finalist list thanks for entering!!!
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