An Ode

This is an Ode to my dad, to a struggle imbedded in our genes that we both share. I got the call that he’s back in the hospital. Probably
The fourth depressive episode this year. Found curled up on the floor, most likely in a sea of mental darkness.

I wrote this in 2004. I used to call these pieces my angst poetry. But in reality, it stemmed from a flood of neuronic firings and complete void of endorphins of any sort.

Depression sufferers battle their own minds daily. I believe with expression, we can see the beauty in our own darkness. Pain is something we all share. Left alone, we drown. Too many choose to end it all in order to be free from the anguish.


These words in a last ditch effort to 
Myself from impending doom
I’m dying from this selfish effort to
Every sin in this empty room

Myself in this last ditch effort to
This filth coursing throughout me
In me something real in order to
Me to something more I can’t see

Forever never ceasing to stop this
Flowing out from me
Yourself now, prostrate this
So weak, can’t see

To respond to the word that’s spoken
Like a fish drowning in this sea
My pleasure in pain, love broken
Me destroying all that I could be

Fail to fallow
Fail to see
I refuse to swallow
What I can’t be
Call my name
Call me still
It’s still the same
But I can’t fill
This purpose you gave me
This life with a reason
I walk, refuse to see
Continue in blind treason


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