“A Wilting ”
My clothes were baggy as if I’d wilted inside of them
Nothing sadder than a wilting flower
Death descending upon something beautiful.
And so is depression
Robbing me of myself.
Life is like a quilt you stitch
Each section a portion of you
But then you become hollowed out
As if your blood is clotted in your body.
It feels as if a place inside of you is broken
Your eyes feel like glass.
Your world becomes a stale, suffocating room
One you don’t want to exist in.
The slaves had a saying
You can get enslaved twice
Once in your body and
Once in your mind.
A wilting happens when you are enslaved
Shadows gather inside of you.
Then the melancholy lifts
And you begin to bloom once more.
Realizing nothing can rob you of yourself.
Mary Ellen South