Over and Over Again

By Liz Soriano

Autophobia lies under covers
It grows into a reality demon
Worse than nightmares, like a fear
It controls what you believe in
My thoughts are never done
They continue on and on
To feed the fear, the demon
That I’ve always fought
Over and over again
I’ve tried to avoid encounters
Of chances to feel empty, useless
To let my curious mind wander
Into the further, where I’ve felt
There’s no point to continue
Wondering what I’m on earth for
When there is nothing for me to do.
Liz is a senior at USC (Class of 2014) and she
has been writing poetry on her depression
for 8 years while recovering from self-harm.


By Kalan Leaks

Is the day I wake up from my nightmares,
Filled with depression and loathing,
And break the bonds of depression.

Is the day I decide to leave my past behind,
Sweep up all of my broken dreams and promises,
And finally forgive myself for my sins.

Is the day I pick myself up,
Nurse my self-inflicted wounds,
And escape the prison run by my inner demons.

Is the day my feet turn black,
With the ashes and gravel of bridges burned long ago,
As I drag myself ever so closer to the road of happiness.

Is the day my back no longer aches,
From the burdens of expectations placed upon me,
And I start to stand tall on my own.

Is the day that I acquit myself,
Of the mistakes I made and the friends I lost,
And realize that my past failures are not my future performance.

Is the day my feet lose their sinister tint,
As I step on greener pastures,
And my visage wears a rediscovered smile.

Is the day my heart loses its calluses,
And I give myself permission,
To love the people I care for without restraint.

Is the day my soul regains its light,
As I once again pursue my dreams,
And introduce myself to the world again.

Is the day I relinquish yesterday,
Capture the present,
And embrace tomorrow.


By Liz Soriano

I know I shouldn’t give in
To him, I go for comfort again.
He stands upon me with neutrals arms.
Giving in to him causes so much harm.
He lurks behind the shadows,
Waiting until I get weak.
Then he comes in the picture,
And starts to console me.
He whispers in my ear.
Puts so many thoughts in my mind.
He comforts me negatively,
While I build rage inside.
I don’t want to listen,
But I have no one else.
All the blame goes to me,
So I take it out on myself.
He’s there when I’m weak.
He’s there when I’m alone.
He’s there when this place
Doesn’t feel like home.


By Anonymous

so tell me you hate me
and that you don’t care
so tell me you never did
that it was just an affair

so tell me you hate me
that it was not true
so tell me you’re innocent
and you thought that I knew

so tell me you hate me
that we never were
so tell me you don’t love me
that I’m the only one in despair

so tell me you hate me
that I want to hate you too
so tell me to leave now
and forget all about you

so tell me you hate me
that I was never good enough
so tell me to get a life
that I need to stand and be tough

so tell me you hate me,
and I will tell you that too
so tell me you hate me,
despite what I say, I still love you.

One Day

By. Sandra D. Pickens

My Private Idaho,
I will find me,
One Day
by that tree
that used to be
on the hill from
my grandma’s.
That tree fascinated me
I wonder about that
all the time.
And, when I die, I’m
going to stay by that
for the rest of my
One Day
This poem is based on my severe depression.
I developed a fascination with a tree behind my
grandmother’s home in Oklahoma. I would
sit in my aunt’s room staring out the window
at it while others were outside playing or talking
to each other in the living room. I left that I was
so alone, except for that tree.