Mental Health, Poetry

Dictator

Depression at its worst
No, no
At its best!
It has sated itself
With my being
I am languid
Inert
There are things I could do
That I’ve no desire to do
There are things that I want to do
That I’ve no desire to do
My psyche is shattered
How can I be so shamed
By such an immovable
Intangible force
My willpower does not even
Begin to scratch the surface of it
In the battle of wits
It sees every move
Perceives every action
Predicts every counterattack
Beats me into the ground
Before I have the chance
To stand and say
No, not today
It says yes, today
Everyday
I am queen here
Ruler of your mind
Body, soul, and all else
She sits on thrones
Lavished in rich silks
Drinking fine wine
Having her feet alternatively
Washed and kissed
By those she walks upon
I hear the din of the feast music
From my cell below
Straining against bars and bonds
I am not my own person
Only a slave to this dictator
Free me
Take these shackles of my feet
I wish to dance

21 thoughts on “Dictator”

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