Depression..

Cyclic nature of it,
Really mysterious,
When we are alone,
And think repeatedly,
Of the unsettled disputes,
Suspicious doubts and
Turbulent days,
When we were busy.

When you become moody and sad,
When you feel like lonely and mad,
When you start to cry for nothing,
Just call someone to talk and cling.

Hiding the feeling,
Makes it worst,
When you are depressed.

Taking the medicines,
Can do any good,
I have some doubts.

Lack of confidence,
Lack of self respect,
may push us to the hole,
that is called depression.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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