Seasonal Depression
By Jennifer Beard
What will it take to be happy?
Sobs echo in my head, my brain,
but on the surface a mask
remains frozen in place.
Numb to this world.
Numb to the pain
inside my soul cries to take this all away.
Carry on. Oh, Carry on.
Look in the mirror.
The light doesn’t touch your eyes.
Everything is dependent on you,
and all you feel you need is a break -
a break from this race,
a break from this pace,
a break from this numbness
washing over your face.
And the tiniest sliver of joy
leaves me bereft.
Drawers filled with hobbies,
abandoned right and left -
wanting connection,
but still trying to dodge her
in the reflection, the feelings
like Oliver asking for “more, sir.”
Please please -
metaphorically falling to my knees,
begging for just an ounce of serotonin, please.
As I crawl my way through, dusty, dark,
bleeding what’s left of my battered peace.
There’s nothing; and yet,
despite of the cracks of this plastic façade,
I’m left wondering, where is God?
How did I come to this place?
Where I see, face to face.
I cover myself in this cheery disposition,
all the while wondering, what am I missing?
But I guess it’s just a season
For there must be a reason.
