We the Depressed
And we are the depressed; depression
Because nothing else is good enough;
Nothing in the world, easy or rough
Could please us as much as recession
The undeniable pleasure; pleased
In getting exactly what we’d expected
From the person on whom we depended:
Nothing, then the mind is eased.
And then the phone rings.
© 2013 Nicholas Emeigh
This is a poem by Nicholas Emeigh, a writer and artist from Philadelphia, PA. You can see more writing, art, and design at my website: nemeigh.weebly.com