Everybody talks about depression as if they know it.
Like they can feel the blood dripping down their skin,
And they know the sick thought of "Oh -- look how beautiful the red is."
(They always say red is my color.)

As if they laid on their bed for hours on end,
Salt tracks lining their face like the scars on their ankles,
Because tears just won't come anymore.
As if they know staring at their ceiling, tracing patterns in the paint
And thinking "Maybe if I stay here awhile longer, I'll go away --
I'll cease to exist" because they're past the point of suicidal thoughts --
Accepting death in life with this hole in their chest and thinking
Death is a reward, an escape from this pain I deserve to feel.

I know depression. The kind that goes unnoticed --
The kind that takes the metal from a hair tie and not cuts --
But scrapes at the skin on her arm, lying on her bed,
Tears not yet dried up with a mother screaming "MONSTER"
Outside of her door.
I know the kind that cuts on her ankles, not her wrists,
Because she's scared she'll get in trouble but she
Desperately needs to be seen.
And never is.

I know depression. The kind that stops cutting because
She gives up hope that she ever will be.
The kind that accepts being alone, that accepts the pain
Like a gift because she deserves it -- that didn't smile for a year,
That went so far into herself that she forgot what connection was like
Not that she ever knew in the first place because

I know a depression that's always been there.
That started some time before the age of 10 but
She can't remember because the monster inside her chest
Stole those years, those memories.
And that monster took the place of every connection she might have felt --
Stopped it, muted it, because it wanted to be her sole companion.
So it was, and has been for 19 years.

And no one ever knew. Or --
They did, but they'd call her crazy.
Demented. Pathetic. A creep. Tell her she had no right --
That because she had a family, a home, money, whatever,
Because of this, her pain was irrelevant.
Fake - selfish - vain - wrong - she hadn't earned it -
So no one cared.

I know that depression.

Riding with the wind

too alive to slow down

to afraid to speed up

don't let me fall let me fly

toward the sky, and the sun

and me and the firing star will become one

lying on the ground

to tired to get up

to afraid to fall asleep for I will have bad dreams

decompose me into the earth

and let me become one with the soil that has been walked by many great beings

let me join my mother nature again

so she can rejoice with her child

so we can dance forever

Write me something epic,
pour your soul
into inked stanzas,
help me to feel your heartbeat,
make me understand
what makes you tick,
see the starlight
in your veins.

I'm not insane
so use any words you like,
I can read.

Idk my purpose or destiny
Ive always felt I played a major role
I can change the world make it a better place
Not trying to be anyone but me and much more
Everyday I surpass negative people I dont let their attitude bring me down.
I dont let my struggle consume me
I've always been me rise above it all
Im fighting back flipping off those doubters
The haters who tried to keep me down
Those who told me I couldnt I see them and plan to destroy them with my success.

As if to walk away from Hell, he paces,
Going the opposite of anywhere,
Escaping from his fellow fickle faces.
Yet, he can't escape himself, his master,
The one humanity had best beware--
He's a supernatural disaster.

We've been told all our lives
how short all of this,
things will be over
before we know it,
everything
will be gone in a flash,
in the blink of an eye.

After a billion
or more years,
the universe
is still expanding.
Everybody needs a muse
to hold onto
before it's too late.

Kiss me until the end...