I’m in a poetry-writing mood. Thus, I thought I would tell this story through a poem. Hopefully, that’s okay.
blue by: ellen li
sometimes I can’t help but feel blue
I sink into the feeling of blue
elongated arms and feet swept beneath,
sadness is not a feeling that can be seen
expressed only through the color of blue.
I’ve come a long way to get to here
and my heavy guilt-ridden arms can’t even move
my mere fingertips strum a chord or two
and I sit here every day after my walk through the woods
in my solace of blue
A traveller once said to me,
“why do you do what you do?”
I barely tilt my head over to whisper
my sweet little melancholy tune,
“It’s not like me to not be so very…
so very very blue. It’s who I am
for it wants me to stay true.”
Today, I return to this point of blue
my thin waxy skin sheds blue
under the cast of a shadow, blue forms
And from here, I have not yet moved.
I can only bring myself to clutch my guitar in-hand.
I can only breathe through my blue.
only my guitar brings a color to my life.
this is not how I really am
this is not how I really look
this is exactly what it seems to be
how I feel.
depression is the color of blue.