Stewart Baird Photography

Depression

Look at me.
My hands are dirty but my heart is pure,
My brow is furrowed but my heart is soft.
You’re the only beautiful thing here,
Sitin’ on the roadside,
Pushed together by despair’s rough hand,
By falling together into a pit,
Endless black, hopeless – then I found you.
It found me.  
Love found me.
You’re looking at all I have,
I see more than I ever dreamed.
Can I know you?  
Will you accept me? Will I kiss you?
There is still something left when you go nothin’,
Love.
When stuff and nonsense has gone.  
Love.Substance still stands.  
Love.Sittin’, just sittin’

This entry was posted on Monday, October 31st, 2011 at 9:32 PM. It is filed under White Knuckle Ride and tagged with great depression, poem. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.