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Anxiety and Depression Support
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Hell of My Own Making

Another poem that I've written that I've decided to share here. Having to deal with my battle with anxiety.

Hell of My Own Making

I live in a hell

of my own making.

Trapped inside this darkness;

it's overtaking.

Tearing me apart

and ripping me to shreds.

Whispering lies into my ears;

feeding sins into my head.

Fighting on uneven ground,

just hoping to survive.

But how can one expect to live

when they're too broken to fly.

Free me from this tortured cawing,

haunting me with feathered deeds.

How can I break loose from this

when you say it's all I need.

Pushing, clawing, forcing

the light from my eyes;

yet in your rasping telling me,

"Chin up, you'll be fine."

Whispering lies into my ears,

your deceit is overtaking.

Struggling to hold on to hope;

I live in a hell

of my own making.

3 Replies

Thank you, EchoSounding.

Your poem reminds me of a line from Robert Lowell's "Skunk Hour," where he writes, "I myself am hell," paraphrasing Satan from Paradise Lost. Lowell's poem always seemed to me to be about his mental/emotional anguish (I think he had bipolar disorder).

I'm not sure why just yet, but I love the phrase "feathered deeds."

I really admire that you're trying to capture what it's like to go through anxiety -- you're providing much needed insight and comfort.

Keep 'em coming!


very very good writing, very expressive and visual...please keep sharing.


This is incredible!!!


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