The world's a stage ,
Where every man has a role
And mine’s a sad one .

Life was parting me a great
Acture .
Falling , crying, drowning ,
Blossoming a bit and then
Surrendering again .
Twas a great plot for the story ,
Of my sad character.

Twas ’ easy for people to
Throw fake flowers out
Their mouths like confetti.

Only the spiraled ones
Who went through it ,
Knew the melancholy of the
Void .

They said twill pass ,
Don't worry about it.
They lied.

He told me to build affiance ,
But how could I?
For people had torn it out of
My system ;
Only to replace it with pain and doubt.

I ghosted on them,
I didn't want to affront
The people who made me
Insecure and Anxious.

I agnized my thoughts aloud ;
I was tired of drowning ,
I wanted light
But it never came.

They shouted recover!
How could I ?
The basilisk never stopped haunting.

I behested my mind
Told her to forget it ,
Ha! She betrayed me
By not doing so.

I swam in books ,
With hopes of escaping
I only sunk further .

I tried burying
The dark thoughts away and
Failed.
The ghosts came back stronger ,
The haunting continued.

It still creeps in at night ,
The painful flowers
Come In and slowly knock me out .

This poem contains a lot of Shakespeare-ic words .

This poem highlights my story of
Depression , ghosts and life.

🌟

-Ridhima Joshi