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A Beast Named Depression

A poem depicting how I view and deal with my depression.

By Denae TaylorPublished 3 years ago 2 min read

The ghastly figure skitters around in plain sight,

its haunting melody hoping to take me in the night.

I see the beast lurking and won’t give in.

I defiantly roar, “You will not win!”

Changing tactics, it silences its padded paws.

I catch a glimpse just in time to snap shut its snarling jaws.

Life seems fine, all is going my way.

Happiness shines as I end the day.

In the morning, I wake to its putrid grin.

The crushing weight resting on my chest again.

I quickly wonder how this could be?

My heart soared free so recently.

The beast forces me to meet its gaze,

then suddenly life becomes a haze.

Where colors were once vibrant and warm,

all has been stolen by cold claws meant to harm.

I know I should battle no matter the cost.

Yet a struggle produced is not worth the energy lost.

Days pass in darkness.

Its hot breath makes me nauseous.

A defiant thought crosses my mind.

The beast senses this and tightens its’ bind.

One day as I sit outside, I see something black.

I risk a glance upward, knowing the beast is likely to attack.

A majestic eagle swoops down from a tree,

the wind gracefully helps lift it up, until it’s free.

I stare in awe at the ease of the eagle’s flight,

trying to somehow compare it to my current plight.

The eagle relies on the wind when it grows weary

to use the gusts created so that it may fly more clearly.

So, too, I can surely find strength in another?

In a distant dream, I swear I have a loving brother.

I feel deeply that this thought has the trance broken!

Hope has come to me, in what feels like a lucky token!

The beast tries to return my attention back,

its words stream violently, on the attack.

Suddenly, the crushing weight becomes too much!

I heave, I struggle, I scream, I push!

I fill my heart with all the love I can muster

desperate to return it back to its golden luster.

Its’ screams pain my ears.

I continue the fight, despite my fears.

I finally breathe free of the crushing weight,

as the beast recoils from my sudden hate.

You are no friend of mine!

Your words are poison from the vine!

It retreats back to its cave, albeit slowly,

promising its return when I become lonely.

Whether it be gone a day, a month, or a year,

any moment without depression is worthy of cheer.

Thank you for reading this poem! I am a self-proclaimed Wellness Educator. I have a blog where I share my personal journey with my mental health. Check that out, here:


Be kind to one another,


surreal poetry

About the Creator

Denae Taylor

I am a self-proclaimed Wellness Educator who is passionate about mental health. My life experiences have taught me a unique insight to mental health, allowing me to share my experiences with others in hopes of promoting healing.

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