a playlist for depressed poets (dark academia)

thank you for 60k!! enjoy this video!

TIMESTAMPS
Rachmaninov Vocalise 0:00
Comptine d’un autre 6:47
Elegy for the arctic 9:57
Bach Sarabade 12:36
Hauster adagio 18:02

[aevuh]

i literally hate that im not some insanely academically gifted poet who only works in massive aesthetically pleasing libraries

[cabbage]

Oh to be a rat in Paris. Under the stars, eating a piece of cheese.

[kira-pygt]

THE WAY THAT I GOT THIS NOTIFICATION WHILE DOING MY CREATIVE WRITING CLASS POETRY ASSIGNMENT IN TEARS-

[kanra]

“There is a freedom that comes with abandonment”-Suzanne Scanlon

[coffeebear]

pov : You live in a village where people execute poets. However, they never knew that you are their creator, and that your poems are what's been keeping them alive all this time.

[galileaalvarez]

pov: you're failing your classes and everything is falling apart in your life

[angel-fsgk]

when you are not a poet but you are depressed...
edit: wtf im famous?

[phyllos]

POV: You open your old notebook to see the poems you wrote about your dead lover over the course of almost a decade. And you never got to show them what you wrote.

[katrina]

some of us are actually afraid of being too happy because of the fear that something tragic might happen.

I founded this today and I just wanted to share this. hope u all are doing well xx

[daughteroftheforest]

pov: you turned them into a poem because you can't have them in any ways rather than that.

[anniko]

i may not be a poet but i am a painter so same

[carolynnmish]

Wait can you please do one that’s like “looking at the stars the night before you birthday” or “Lying in bed knowing that these are your last moments of childhood”

[ferrin]

POV: You plan out your newest D&D character's backstory on a sheet of leafed paper, penning in the details where they are lost and guiding the story along. Finally, at the end of an hour's thought and consideration, you tuck the sheet away into your folder and smile, knowing that yet another character has come to life.

[pinkrosesYT]

I’m a trained poet, I have clinical depression, and I have never been more called out by a YouTube playlist recommendation

[julie]

pov: you ran to your favorite oak tree you sat down clutching your journal full of your beautiful dreams. tears streaming down your face from the hatred in this world begging for a new world.

[miriamvasquez]

You’ve heard about dead poets society! Now get ready for.. ✨depressed poets society! ✨

Edit: rip Neil✨💖

[honeybrained]

You lie awake, staring at your ceiling. The sound of rain splashing against your window lulls you into a state of complete Numbness. You think of Her. The way she smiled at you, the way she loved you, the way she cried when you left, and the way she now smiles at another.

Half finished poetry lies next to you, your pencil still resting in your fingers. You wonder if she ever misses you, God knows you miss her. She was always powerful and smart and everything you weren't and, perhaps, that's what made you fall for her. The fact it was a challenge.

You sink deeper into the Numbness. The wooden floor presses into your shoulder blades but the Numbness embraces you with warm, tender arms that wrap round and round. They wind and bind and take.

You wake up, finding yourself in a dimly lit room with only a desk and chair. Upon that desk rests your unfinished poem for Her, with a pencil sat neatly by, waiting. And then she appears, smiling at you and holding out her hand like she used to. She leans her head back to laugh, and dances away into the dark with the sound of her laughter echoing back to you. She reappears, dancing in circles around the desk.

And there, in her neat copperplate writing, sat three words at the bottom of the page.

"And She Loved."

[estefanieveliz]

i used to be a depressed poet but then my depression took over and now i'm just depressed

[melissalonla]

the title: depressed poets
me, who doesn't even write: you called?

[L_inthechat]

POV: you’re a writer that had delved into paints and canvases after you had written a tragedy so great, you just couldn’t help but leave the papers and fountain pens. Now, you try your hands on oils and charcoal to hopefully bring back a love so strong, that it will bring back your love for writing.