I've
become so numb

I can't feel you there,

I've become
so tired

so much more
aware,

by becoming this,
all I want
to do

is be more

like me

and be less

like

you.

Concealed depression is
Buying water proof mascara
So you won't have to reapply makeup
after each daily breakdown.

Concealed depression is
Laughing at everything
so they won't question
why your eyes always water.

Concealed depression is
staying up until 4 a.m
because it's the only time
you can ignore the world
and no one will notice.

...Or concealed depression is
taking three melatonins
in hopes you'll sleep deep
enough to keep the terrors at bay.

Concealed depression is
Staying consistently busy
So your mind will be too exhausted
at the end of the day to fight you.

Concealed depression is
the impatient selfish monster
that burns bridges as you cross them.

Concealed depression is
feeding yourself lies like
"I'm fine" or "I won't cry".

Concealed depression is
the uphill battle that you don't get to win once;
it's a mountain you're forced to climb every single day.

Concealed depression is
silently screaming, hoping someone
will have super sonic hearing,
swoop in like a bat,
and carry you under their wings.

Concealed depression is
never hugging too tightly
or meeting a gaze too intensely
in case your guts may slip
out before you can catch them.

So when they accuse you of changing,
when they accuse you of rage and indifference,
of violence and apathy,
when they ask why you never called,
when they ask why you never told them,
all you can say is that concealed depression
is like an overbooked hotel and there's only room for one.
All you can say is that you were afraid
Your darkness would drown them too
and then there would be no one left to save you.

I was so busy building a wall to keep everyone out
that I didn’t realize I was locking myself in.
Now I’m completely trapped within myself
and the civil war for my soul begins.

I’m left alone to tear down a wall that was built to keep hundreds out.
My monsters are winning this war and I will soon perish in my doubt.

A vulture is the only thing I can see
mocking me from the boundaries of my wall.
Soon it will be his time to dine
as I think I’ll leave my body by nightfall.

By the time I reached the end,
my mouth was tied in a twist.
Salt water and smoke
rose up from my throat
caged between porcelain,
and sugar sweet lips.
I lay awake,
swaying softly,
in a cacoon of strawberry silk.
Carefully contemplating
the white spaces of time
that kaleidoscope like fractals
between the shades
of falling leaves.
I am at peace,
fully aware of the world
around me.
I am happy,
dreaming of summer sunsets,
and kissing the cherry trees.

I rose to
the setting sun,
dove into
an indigo sea,
and let the ink
wash me clean*.