Depression Ghetto

The house shivers and sighs, naked bones exposed.

Groaning against gentle breezes, wishing  to collapse,

but the skeleton stubbornly holds.

Sunken eyes devoid

of life stare out, judging the

world who so cruelly neglected intended purpose.

White picket fence, the last defense from

decay, remains locked tight,

taunting passersby’s with KEEP OUT

-as if anyone wants to COME IN.

But, the weary WELCOME mat still invites

us in . . . if we triple-dog-dare

to know the ghost of who you once could be.

 

 

 

 

 

Published by

Karisa Moore

I lost my son to suicide. Each day since, I commit my day to turning the page and continuing to write my story. There is no deeper grief, but I know too, that there is no greater hope than bringing life out of death. I offer each page to you as a testimony that there is hope for abundant life!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s