There's a wall in front of me.
Too tall to climb.
No room to crawl under.
Too long to go around.
All I have is a plastic spoon.
So I chip away at the wall.
I've been chipping away for years.
The wall keeps getting thicker.
But then I realized:
I am not alone.
I am surrounded by people, each with their own spoon, just waiting for me to ask for help.
So I do.
I ask.
And they help.
I am not alone.
Some days
It’s hard to find
A reason
To get out of bed
The depression claws
At me
Begging me
To just stay there
Sink into the darkness
And disappear
But I don’t want to
Do that
As I stood there
Crying in the rain
I stopped and stared
At the sunset before me
My tears fell faster
As I remembered
The feel of his arms
Around me
And thought of how
Distant he’s been
Look
I’m sick and tired of all this shit and pretending
Look
I’m sick and tired of all the fairytale endings
Look
I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive like this
But look
Comments
I don't know if you've ever heard of this but there's an analogy many therapists use about "spoons," or units of energy, that you start out with in a day, with each subsequent task using up a number of said spoons until your energy is fully spent. This reminded me of that, and I read it with that in mind. (I wouldn't be surprised if it was on your mind while writing!) You and your one plastic spoon against the wall, energy low, but everyone coming in with their own reserve of energy to get you where you need to go... Whether you intended to evoke the spoon theory or not, it adds amazing dimension and double-meaning to this piece!
Yeah. I’ve heard the spoon analogy quite a bit, and it was something that played a big role in how I wrote this poem.
Log in or register to post comments.