I am standing on a staircase, on the seventeenth step,
but the eighteenth onwards has no bannister,
up until now, I've had a safety net,
something to lean on when
the steps aren't lit properly.

'Now', I tell myself,
'I've seen people who have fallen
and manage to grip to the edge
and pull up...towards the next'.
'But I've seen people fall
and never get up'.

I say;
'Am I another statistic?
Am I another failure?
Am I another mangled corpse for the cleaners?
Or...
Am I going to lift my leg and take that step?
Am I to ignore the thoughts?
Am I stronger than I let myself think?'

I lift my leg.

Upwards and onwards, I guess.

Behind that broken smile
Atop their pristine steeds
Unbeknownst yet for a while
There are the hero's needs

To be a hero is to be broken
One who sacrificed it all
Finally awoken
Who took the hero call

They've seen the ugly side of man
The dark side of the moon
When others turned tail and ran
They were the last ones in the room

Behind that broken smile
As they wave to cheering fans
They've not cried for quite awhile
Eyes bare like desert sands

I am depressed again.

I'm not mad at myself for it.

I realized because things that don't usually bother me
Are starting to eat away at me like invisible cancer
That doesn't show up on the scans
But I can feel it in my chest
An illness only I can see

I am diseased
Mentally

My brain has been infected with bugs lately
Everyone of them attempting to convince me I am not worth the work or the money or the hurt
That maybe none of this matters
That maybe I miss them

That maybe
It still makes me sad
To wonder about.  

I started staying up late again
Feeling sad and alone into the early hours of the morning

Depression is so frustrating because everyone around you has no idea what's happening so you just stand there talking nonsense trying not to let them peek but some part of you wants them to understand so badly

But how could they?
After all

Depression lusts after lonely
Depression sweeps isolation up in his arms and twirls her
Romantically
Depression loves that I love how I write when he's here
Depression doesn't have a name
But when he visits me I am split between angry and nostalgia

Because I know sad
Well
It is familiar
It is like family
It visits me
And I cannot decide how long it will stay
But I can brave conversations

I cannot run away.