Black dog

He shows up in my bed on a night of utter despair…

Making me stay with him for days till I finally begin to repair…

Music is not the healer anymore, food I can hardly chew..

The skies begin to turn dark and everything else is blue..

He feeds on all my attention, making it hard to concentrate..

Concealing it under the mask of humor I tell people; “life’s great”..

They’ll judge me if they see him, consumed by the fear of shame..

A glass breaks thousands of miles away, he tells me “You’re the one to blame..”

He keeps me up at night, barking the loudest he can..

It’s harder to get out of bed and go to work, lookin’ like cavemen..

Pushing me far away from my friends, hitting me with the strongest wave..

My depression isn’t my pet anymore, now I’m his only slave..

If only I can seek help and someone to hold my hand,..

I’ll train my black dog again without needing a magic wand…

P.S. Depression shouldn’t be allowed to grow darker and bigger making easier for it to control us. There’s no shame in asking for help and sharing your true emotions with people close to you. But it’s a shame when we see someone around us suffering and fail to ask “Are you okay, bud?”

-®Hira Chaudhry

©Image courtesy: The scream, Edvard Munch

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The healer!

Shall I not devote my heart,

To the One who holds the mountains firm,

And a myriad of stars in perfect constellations..

For my heart is made of glass..

With a thousands cracks running through..

-Hira Chaudhry