Posted by: Ron DuBour | February 18, 2016

Depression~by Norman Wilson




Dark is the woods where the hooting owl resides
Laden in black for a quiet that outliers seed
For what amounts in the thick of a forest treed

My mind is aged from enhanced loss where depression hides
Like trees stripped of bark and leaves from a salt breeze
Waging a holocaust on what was once pleasant woodland by the sea

I toil in thought where numbness stokes a mist from within
Within a mindless forest, that deceives a vestige of grief
A grief so distained scorching my face in disbelief

I wail in howls to the hooting owl
While the darkness of the forest smothers my words
Words that corrupt my thoughts of mind never to be heard

My depression cannot be seen, for I hide behind the trees
Stripped of bark and leaves of green
Where depression comes in sleepless dreams cleaving relentlessly

I shall slip away in gentle darkness of night
Where my grief and depression shall take my life
Yet in soft gentle night I shall be together again with my wife

All rights reserved 02/15/16
Norman Francis


  1. Oh this is good!

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