You are so brave
A trait that I crave
You aren’t ashamed of what hides inside
You have no problem with saying
And here I am
Broken as you
Not knowing what to do
Or where to go
You and I are the same
But you will never know
I keep the thing that slowly grows
A secret
You talk
You talk about past
You talk about pain
You talk about it
I, on the other hand,
Never say a word
I never say my past
I never say my pain
I never say it
We aren’t the same
You talk
I hide
And secretly cry
I have a friend who is depressed. She is able to talk about it. She doesn’t go into detail or is proud of it, but she’s able to talk. She can say it out loud to friends like me. I, on the other hand, am horrible about this. She has no idea how much I relate and that probably makes me a horrible friend.