The Footsteps of a Broken Stranger

I have to block out thoughts of you.
Because all it brings is depression.
I walk in the damp sand.

Watching the tide come in.
My footprint is imprinted
into the damp sand.

As the waves wash over,
the footprints are gone.
Nobody will know I was there.

The memory of you washes away.
Taking a part of me with it, also with you
because all I am to you is a stranger.

All You are to me is a stranger.
You are broken.
I am broken.

this was very list like, and navel gazing. I couldn't feel anything. It's just young poetry about depression, the emotions don't even make sense once on paper.

I think I critiqued another poem of yours, but my suggestion is still that you should read more poetry. oh and this article I wrote might help you: Emotional Poetry.

Clau's right; this is a prime example of navel-gazing. While it means a lot to you, I'm sure, there's very little meaning to an objective (outside) reader. The errors in punctuation and capitalisation, as well, didn't exactly lend itself to a brilliant review.

In the words of the Great Bradshaw:

Scrap this.

I have to block out thoughts of you.
Because all it brings is depression.

Depression is such a generalized term. What does that really mean anymore? Give me something heart-wrenching.

The ideas seemed kind of half-formed, and tehy change so often I can't really keep track of them.