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The Cause Was the Past — A Poem About Depression

Errah is an educator, a writer, and a poet. He often sits at his desk to make thought-provoking poems.


The Cause Was the Past

A large case with grace, the place of my breathing space;

With an ace face, have a taste to embrace.

While the style of the smile is admired in fertile isles from miles;

His eyes fire and arise in the five piles of the divine height.


One night, without light, out of white bright, loss of sight;

There's a fight of the frightful knights; no rights, just spite.

The rainbow degrow and the big toe erode the meadow;

The show was full of crow shadows and bellows of drow.


There were zero heroes, though foes vetoed the inferno;

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So, the volcano's flow and tornado's blow tow to glow and grow.

He rose from his pillow, seen by a sparrow over the window, full of sorrow;

The bro was solo and there's an arrow on his ego.


Sprawl to a tall wall and the two small balls had rainfall;

Install and recall false fault; pall to all calls and football.

The mind pined and blind, couldn't decide; whined and cried;

The kind child disinclined and dried like a rind died in the wild.


He asked for love and dove from above — Forgive and recov;

Sieve the blood of bugs, therefore, to live and become free of bereft.

"There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn’t.”

— John Green

© 2022 Errah Caunca

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