Depresso Mode A Black Poet’s Memoirs

Please make sure you read Chapter Zero for context!

And so we begin…

The writings on the wall.

Their font so small.

What is it that I can see? Oh I understand its how happy I could possibly be

A world where I could actually care about somebody named me. Outside of trashing myself for all this mental instability.

So where do I turn to look now that Im straining my eyes and still can any semblance of prize?

I take my eyes away from wall and look at this mirror but it seems I still can see anything clearer.

Theres no resemblance of what I used to look like all I say is yikes. What made me think I could be a winner Like Mike?

I look deeper into the mirror trying to see something clearer and who wouldve thought Id finally see something in my eyes that was purer?

Its so pure, the sadness, depression, hatred and pain, that constantly makes me feel like I want to hang.

To hang by the branches of this tree that my circumstances have planted. And let the world see what kinda fruit this tree has granted.

The thing so pure in my eyes that I saw was Darkness. A darkness so deep it could be considered a home for the Loch Ness.

And as I drown in this Darkness sinking lower and lower I look to see what it was pulling down so much and I can believe I know her.

This woman who started me on this journey just because she couldn control her horny.

She pulls me deeper it feels like but in actuality she was pushing me out from within her.

And as soon as I was out I looked around and immediately wanted to commit myself to the ground.

23 years passed like a slow crawl and would you look at that…. Im back in front of the same wall.