Yesterday I shared a piece of writing from back in college that was written before I was in an active battle with depression and anxiety. It showed that I was allowing my mind to spend time is some dark places back before depression was running my life, and that I have been struggling with making the “right” decision for years. Last night I was reading through a Word document in which I had brainstormed on “paper” before I wrote that essay. I was thinking that maybe I should post these raw thoughts when I came to the bottom of the screen and found a poem. Now to be clear I am no poet or even fan of poetry for that matter. I have stumbled across some that I enjoyed, Robert Frost The Road Not Taken comes directly to mind, but mostly I just don’t “get” poetry. This poem, and I use the term loosely, does give another window into where my brain was as I approached graduation and the reality of what that would mean began to sink in.
Its strength is immeasurable growing stronger with
every puppet that falls in line. It forces conformity
from all it can, and destroys all that it cannot.
It sucks the energy from everything around it
destroying what is unique with its unyielding power
forcing its will upon all.
What is its plan for me? Will it bury me with its
fantastic power? Can I be who I want to be? or
just another puppet on a string?