When You Were Born

The day you were born,
the world lost something.
Something original.
While laboring through your birth,
I died.
While giving you life,
you took mine.
You took the flavors of the foods I use to enjoy.
The morsels that were once heaven to my taste buds,
are now devoid of the careful planning and love that went into preparing them.
You took the smells that made foreign places
familiar and comfortable.
Smells that defined objects of affection.
Smells that distinguish us all.
What were pleasant noises, easily recognized, are now buzzes and ringing in my ear.
I fail to recall music’s beauty.
Its composition.
Instead I’m left with dull monotonous humming, moving me to feel nothing.
With your coming,
I lost sight of red blending with yellow to create orange,
and all the colors in between.
Now I see white fading to black, making a million shades of gray.
Not even a warm gray,
or a cool gray,
an institutional gray.
A dead gray.
I used to touch the hand of another,
feel the warmth of their soul,
the core of who they really are.
Now I feel vinyl or pale paper.
It cuts me. Traps me.
No longer a living breathing diplomat for the person within,
but a mask- a facade,
hiding the being.
But you’ve also taught me so much-
introduced me to the finer things…
the things that matter.
You took with you my confidence, my pride.
Replaced it with humility, compassion, understanding.
You taught me to never take anything at face value, when you stole my trust.
You forced me to look deeper.
And with the lonely days and nights we’ve spent together,
you showed me the importance of art, literature, writing and thinking, though,
never warning that these things would consume me if unmanaged.
You highlighted my weaknesses and sharpened my talents.
You’ve taught me patience and given me strength and security in solitude.
Crumbling are the things outside my skin
and growing is the spirit within it.
You destroyed everything that lies beyond my border,
forcing me to build within,
letting nothing alien to my soul affect the outcome.
The fire.
For that, I owe you everything,
but, the problem is,
that’s what you took,
when you were born.

When You Were Born


Victoria, United States

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 1

Artist's Description

What depression has taken from me and given to me.

Artwork Comments

  • Erika .
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