© July 13, 2022, Written by: The Depressed Poet Doc Dalton

Time seems to quickly pass, now that your gone

For me, days are painful as I try to hold on

Confused by what I feel and amused by what my mind lets me see

Self-abused because I just can’t seem to set myself free


The unstoppable talks within myself over you

Many questions to answers, hell I already knew

 This pain runs so damn deep, like I never felt before

From that moment you left, to knock on Heaven’s door


What will I do, or even worse, what can I say?

Who will I talk to – to help get me through my days?

Who will be there on those cold and lonely nights?

To hold me, love me and make me feel, all will be alright


Now I’m chasing broken down dreams, ones that will never come true

With shattered feelings surrounded by Preachers, Cigarettes, Tattoos, and Fools

With a bottle in my hand and a sadness deep within my eyes

I beg you Lord, please help me, cause even Whiskey can’t make me cry


As I struggle to see it clearly now as I fight through this daily haze

Buried by a maze of confusion that now covers my days

Maybe just one last scream, one last tear, hell even one last sigh

I beg you Lord, please help me, cause even Whiskey can’t make me cry

I am Just a Man Who Struggles Through His Words, So He Can Make It Through His Days 
The Depressed Poet comes from many years of suffering from Depression. While in the hospital for this a doctor suggested that I try my hand at poetry and that is where life changed for me. I wrote about things I never really thought of before like God, Jesus, Heaven and so on. I do not consider myself a great or good writer because, I am not. What I am is a man, who stumbles through his words, so he can make it through his days. I also host a podcast called, The Coffee and Prayer Series.