Seclusion

Seclusion

Seclusion 

 

There is not a soul alive that seems to understand me

Not even my closest companions, not even my family

My bedroom drawer is packed with prescriptions

Making sleeping pills the main of my many addictions

Every social situation that I’ve tried hard to avoid

Has resulted in me being labelled paranoid

Regular visits to the clinic of psychiatry

But still, no one could help with my inner anxiety

The fear of being watched, judged and scrutinized

Has forced me to wish that one day I’d be euthanized

Ever since childhood, shyness was difficult to abolish

And throughout adolescence, seclusion was my only solace

Till this day, I pray to be saved from this internal disaster

If only I could convince God to answer.

 

Copyright © 2014 Grant Kingi

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
 Hello, my name is Grant Kingi and i’m a psychology student at Otago University. This poem I have written was inspired by the anxiety that I experience when in public or in social situations. I have not been diagnosed with social anxiety but I have undergone a series of psychiatric/ psychotherapeutic tests which indicate that I possess more milder symptoms of the disorder. I realize that the problem could be rooted deep in my past. As a child, I was shunted from foster home to foster home and as a consequence, I began to feel chronically insecure. This is my story…

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My Depression is a Room

Vladstudio emotion 1024x768
Image via Wikipedia

with walls patterned
in a random design

confusing     distracting

drawing me deeper

where the floor’s an illusion
a step onto quicksand

unstable     unpredictable

sucking me down

where the ceiling swings with moods
caught on the scraps of words

frustration      strikes!

before I can duck

with a faint glow reaching
from a crack under the bolted door

my strength     determination

aren’t I lucky

where a sick experience of pain
washes through the naked space

uncomfortable     irritation

my gut reaction

where the atmosphere’s a firm conviction
that sleep is not a friend

the hours merely nag     mock

as cockroaches scuttle

Copyright © 2010 Kirsten Cliff

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Kirsten Cliff currently spends her days creating a collection of haiga (haiku poems with images) to help her mentally and spiritually process her recent journey through leukaemia. Her haiku have been published in journals and anthologies, and placed in competitions, in both New Zealand and overseas. Kirsten lives with her fiancé (also a writer and poet) in a house dedicated to writing, “Wordsmith House”, in Papamoa, Bay of Plenty.