Depression is a funny feeling,
More so because it's not a feeling.

Depression can best be described as a weight,
A weight that is exclusive to an individual,
A weight that you must carry on your shoulders every grueling, painful, dreadful day.

It's crippling,
Dragging you down to an excruciating low and proceeding to stomp on your ribs whilst you gasp for the crisp taste of air, struggling to breathe
Restricting the flow of oxygen to the ceaseless fire inside your heart

It's invisible,
Not noticeable by the human eye, out of our perception.
A condition that nobody will be able to comprehend until you open yourself up like the centerfold of a book that has been awaited and anticipated for years by the populace.

It's misunderstood,
They think that it's a mindset that has been ingrained into your thick skull through the years,
"It gets better,", an infuriating phrase that you hear everyday which drives you to the edge and puts you on the edge of your seat, wanting to let out all that pent up rage,
But that's too much effort.

It's a lack of motivation,
Laying in bed pretending that you're ill just to avoid getting up and doing something with yourself.
Distancing yourself from any potential social interaction because you don't want to bring another person into the cesspool of hatred and sadness that is your life.

It's death,
Slowly but surely delivering that final blow that pushes you over the metaphorical edge that marks the ceasing of your life.

There's no cheating depression.

grab that bottle of pills, prescribed to me
treating my crippling anxiety
open wide, two down the hatch
but there is a little catch
slowly killing me from the inside
sooner or later my brain will be fried
but on this medication I have to rely
otherwise I get afraid I may die
i get afraid of talking aloud, expressing myself
anything conceivable scares me to death
so i swallow them down day after day
otherwise i'll continue to just hide away
isolation and desolation
sad and scared feelings in manifestation
sitting down in a corner
afraid of the world
i know it's irrational
but why won't it stop?
it's only out to get me, step on me, hurt me
the pills want to help me, pull me up, help me flee
and that is why, when you continue to say
"they're progressively killing you, more and more each day"
as if i don't know that, i'm not that naive
to think that these magic pills that help me to breathe
only have pros and not any cons
thinking that they will do me no wrong
but if you were me, you'd do the same thing
it's excrutiatingly hard when you struggle to bring
yourself out of bed every single morning,
afraid of the daylight, you heed your own warning
afraid of everything imaginable
and so
whenever i struggle to get out of bed
i grab that bottle
and i open wide
and i throw two down the hatch

blankly staring at a shelf
speaking softly to myself
lying on my sweat stained bed
voices rushing through my head
recurring, frequent, loud
feel the need to make them proud
always wanting more from me
“Very soon we’ll set you free”
pseudo-hope, another day
they will never go away
messy hair, poorly groomed
isolated in my room
by myself but not alone
voices make their presence known
indecisive, powerless
sweet release comes with death’s kiss
reality – I’ll never find
when I get lost inside my mind

sitting on a street corner
stupid drunk off black lager
****** mood, no food
washed up, out of luck
always high, never dry
one more hit to feel alive
drinking away every cent
struggling to pay the rent
start to steal from next of kin
anything to blaze again
living in a constant peril
eyes becoming fierce and feral
focused on the next high
there’s no reason to survive
stuck in stages of denial
passerby’s all call you vile
waking up covered in bile
you can’t make that extra mile
settle for less, aspire for more
life is full of open doors
with a little hint of effort
everything could be much better
trying hard to just ignore
when ****** buddies offer more
get up, turn, and walk away
this isn’t how your life will stay
things could be charming and happy and swell
you can escape reality’s hell
it doesn’t take a genius to show or tell
cynical hatred never does well
so turn down the needles and pass on the pills
you’ll feel so much better, I promise you will
don’t let your negative side consume you
allow the positive light to shine through

Feel it building
Manifesting
Heart is beating
Feel like screaming
Blood pressure raising
Eyes are gleaming
About to start swinging
Look like ****
Losing it
I just want to ******* quit
Look around, empty room
Why's it all so ******* gloom
Body shaking
Head is aching
Feels like the whole Earth is quaking
Fists are clenched
About to wretch
Why can this thirst not be quenched
Flailing fists into the wall
Gonna just break down and bawl
Anger filling up my brain
Adrenaline flowing through my veins
I cannot be ******* tamed
I'm about to go insane
Knuckles bloodied
Out of breath
Anger makes us feel like death

War is a concept of the mind
And we might find that humankind
May appear to be so blind, people killed as we blink our eyes
Dying soldiers lost and found
Putting our brothers in the ground
So this is our time to remember
The heroic men that fought to the end or
The ones that died, brave and strong
Forced into battle to end the wrong
They fought for our freedom for so long
They made us feel like we belong
Despite the fact that we may feel
That war is a pseudo-mechanism for peace
We look to the past to change our ways
For future peace in later days
Our armies keep growing
But at the rate we are going
We bear witness to what war is showing
That war never changes.