I was walking home, one day.
When I overheard a teenager,
telling his mom,
"I have depression."
It got me thinking right away.
Not one single person will say such a thing.
Depression can not be self proclaimed.
It can not be said so plainly like that.
It is not a fever that you can easily tell,
just by looking at the thermometer.
It is a mental illness,
and it lives inside you.
It is a parasite,
destroying your connections with the world first,
before it makes you **** yourself.
Her mother asked him,
"How can you say so?"
Then he replied,
"I can't tell. It's hard to explain. But I feel sad."
Being sad is far from being depressed.
For a sad person can be lifted up,
but a depressed person can't.
He, or she, tries to.
But his, or her, urge to sit and do nothing but stare blankly, thinking another way to end this miserable life, always win.
The only way to lift his or her spirit is thru the use of a rope,
hanging from the ceiling,
waiting to be used.
Sadness can occur within the day.
But the sadness, a depressed person feels, occurs the moment he or she wakes up.
It feels like sleeping from 5 PM to 10 AM,
but wakes up, just to feel tired.
Without even moving a muscle.
Depression comes out involuntarily.
It affects the way you think,
the way you act,
the way you do art,
such as poems or paintings.
Depression is like a piece of clothing,
that no one liked.
But ended up in someone's closet.
Depression is like a stranger,
gate crashing into a party.
But what you don't know is,
you are the venue for the party.
But got inside anyways.
That is Depression.
Sorry for the delay. This poem is also about depression. Please note that I am not depressed. I wrote this because people nowadays always proclaim that they are depressed. This poem is dedicated to the people who intertwines sadness with depression. Enjoy! :)