Drag
January drags. Drags me to the edge of boredom. Drags along Decembers debt. Swallows my energy. In one long lump. Every exhale is a sigh.
Content warning: suicidal ideation
Image Description
A picture of skyline in the evening, the sky is a dark blue, the lights have yellowy glow.
I wrote this poem when I was struggling with depression exacerbated by S.A.D (seasonal affective disorder). Feeling low mood, low energy and indifferent to living is very common and nothing to be ashamed of. Poetry is such an important way for me to process my feelings and I am grateful I'm at the place mentally I can share my most personal poetry.
Image Description
A white calendar showing January, there are paper clips and brown paper next to the calendar.
The day is long
And the evening longer
January drags
Drags me to the edge of boredom
Drags along Decembers debt
Swallows my energy
In one long lump
Every exhale is a sigh
And every yawn
Is coated in my desire to die
Or at least hibernate
For January
I'd rather not be awake
Even to express myself
Feels clunky, boring and a neverending mistake
January sucks, so does this poem.
I wish I was dead.
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