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No sleep

Anxiety/depression

By Brittany OdomPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
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No sleep
Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash

Another late night and I can’t sleep. Why? When I’m tired? It’s because this stress has me knees deep,

but the stress isn’t even about me!

Or is it?

I don’t know anymore, and that’s when I decide to hit the floor, get on my knees and pray for more! More hope and more help.

But how do you ask for help when you can’t explain the things you’ve felt.

And I know all these antidepressants aren’t good for my health.

Went through Zoloft, lexipro, and prozac,

But my emotions are like playing a game of high-low-jack,

Let’s not forget about the other bottles of inderal, hydroxyzine, and clonidine as add-ons,

Then trazadone and mirtazapine to help sleep but the elephant still chose me and I was sat on.

Tell the doctor it doesn’t work and there answer is “here try this one!”

But I already knew I was missing some protons..

You know.. positive energy?

I could take every pill in every bottle and it still wouldn’t kill the depression and anxiety..

But it would kill me,

I guess when they say “kill or be killed” this is what they mean.

I just want answer for what’s wrong with me!

How could I be so happy one minute then so angry and depressed so suddenly?

I don’t want to talk to therapists, they don’t know me!

You know what I call a joke?

Therapy.

Because they’ll just tell you what you wanna hear while you give them your last penny.

I try to follow gods words and I love it trust me,

But it’s like a switch is flipped and some very bad things is what the devil is telling me.

I’ve seen things I wouldn’t even let you see, even if you were my biggest enemy, yet I’m still so hated by many.

It’s supposed to be triple J’s till I die, but is it really triple Shots and? goodbye.

So grab the piano and I’ll grab a fiddle,

soon we’ll start,

But only when I get to the end,

Because my Conscience is still stuck in the middle.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Brittany Odom

I just write how I feel, and let the pen talk for me. I can’t express my feelings verbally, so I write poetry. If I wanted any outcome from writing, it would be that one of my stories might help someone with their issues.

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