Amelia Baron – Under the Sheets


18th July 2018

If eyelashes were to entangle and lids would remain closed,
Darkness would be enforced on us, our sights would be disposed.
We’d never see the sunsets, of magenta and lilac and gold
We’d never see the faces of our loved ones growing old.
We’d never know the oceans, waves crashing upon the sands,
We’d never witness the miracles of nature that grace this fragile land.
No chrysalis into butterfly, no changes of the season,
Or the dimples in the cheeks of those whose smiles not need no reason.
We’d never know the enticement of freshly fallen snow.
Never witness the power of art from the places we may go.
No brightly burning stars or phases of the moon,
The beauty in all the spectacles we see taken away too soon.

And what would be the torment if I stole your ability to hear?
The foreboding darkness and loss of connection evokes trepidation and fear.

We’d never hear the lull of birdsong, the lapping of the sea,
The sound of children playing or the crunching of Autumn’s leaves.
We’d never hear the energy of music, the passion of Bowie and Queen.
Or the jukebox in the corner as we dance to Come on Eileen.
We’d never experience the words “I love you” whispered in our ears.
And we’d never know the sound of laughter that wipes away our tears.

So just imagine for a second
For this is the pain that suffocates my brain, that forces me to close the door.
I no longer see or hear the wonders.

When depression ensnares me once more.


10th September 2018

The electricity’s failed and the bulbs spark no more
The darks all consuming, rotting apple cores.
And when candlelight flickers, the hope all but fades
The black dog’s returned, his teeth razor blades.
And I’ve been here before, questioning life
Theories of existence show human’s bitter strife
To conquer all power, to be mighty as god
Give meaning to others, be the light in the fog.
But I have neither answer nor question to ask
Exposed and vulnerable in the life that I bask.
And my body is weak but it knows its to play
The support for the movements of my actions each day
To persuade me in leaving the security of bed
Where the gravity of reality can be locked in my head.
And the terrors at night are just terrors in the mind
But when I open my eyes I can’t leave them behind.
But to trudge on through battle is like soldiers at war
But instead of grenades it’s depression’s valour
Exploding with deafening blasts of morose
Concealed in the wrappings of prescriptions and dose
But we’ve been here before, we’ve survived despite doubts
Like the promise of rainfall in summer’s parched droughts.
So to focus on the kinships who’s love has no bounds
Who’s voices and laughter are the Eden of sounds
Who’ll hold you in their presence and whisper the words
Dark times are broken by the chorus of birds.

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