I realize now
that I'm the toxic friend.
This streak of toxicity
has got to end.

Whenever I'm around
the friends I love,
I say certain things
I know will push and shove.

I've always said
I'm not the toxic one.
But I guess lying to myself
is something I find fun.

When I think back on life,
I find I'm not who I desire.
I always force myself into arguments
and into the line of fire.

This poem is more for myself
than for anyone I show it to.
I'm mostly just acknowledging it
so I can really read myself through.

I realize now
that I'm the toxic friend.
All my toxic traits
I really need to mend.

Depression is strong,
but I am stronger.
It's able to control my mind,
but with buttons that can be left behind.

The panel is turned on,
and my brain is turned off.
But with a little glowing light,
the switch that says "off" is in sight.

Depression is strong,
but I am stronger.
It can hide my being away,
but with a key that is not astray.

The key locks me in,
and locks the help out.
But through the gaps in the cell,
is the key that fits the lock so well.

Depression is strong,
but I am stronger.
It might make me feel weak,
but with strength, no damage it will wreak.

The weakness goes up,
and the strength goes down.
But when I reach the switch and key,
my power rising again, is what you'll see.

Writing is a coping mechanism.
A method to get away.
It helps my mind keep calm
when all my thoughts are array.

I can sit here forever.
Putting my thoughts in this book.
The book that gives me comfort
from the worries stuck on a hook.

The horrors in my mind.
The terrors in my head.
Becoming words on paper
instead of existential dread.

Writing is an escape.
A reason to break free.
It helps my brain relax
when I have the urge to flee.

I can stay here for eternity.
Staring at these lines.
The lines that give me support
just like a second spine.

Asking me to do something
is like asking me to climb a mountain.
The task plays over in my mind
again and again and again.

I tell myself it's a simple job
that quickly can be done.
I turn on my brain and say
"Hey, maybe this will be fun."

Up I go to do the task.
A simple thing, you could say.
And with the finished job I can bask.
But then my brain goes gray.

I sit back down
watching colors go dark.
A fun task no more
on which my brain could embark.

My brain thinks the simplest things
are the hardest of them all.
Up the mountain of tasks I go
and down the mountain I fall.

My heart was on the ground.
It walked on two feet.
I picked it up to carry.
I gave it love to eat.

My heart was in the trees.
It swung from vine to vine.
I pushed it to help it sway.
I pulled it so the love was mine.

My heart was in the clouds.
It moved across the sky.
I guided it among the rain.
I sent birds to hear its lovely cry.

My heart is in the stars.
It no longer walks, swings, or moves.
I reach up to touch it.
I say "I love you," but it's too far away.

With you, I feel safe.
You tell me I'm not alone.
I believe you.
But now, I'm not safe.

With you, I can cry.
You tell me I'll be alright.
I believe you.
But now, I cry all alone.

With you, I can talk.
You tell me you love my voice.
I believe you.
But now, can't talk.

With you, I am loved.
You tell me you love me.
I believe you.
But now, I am hated.

With you, I am me.
You tell me I'm the best.
I believe you.
But now, I'm an imposter.

One month now,
since the last time we talked.
The last time we spoke,
the last time we conversed soft.

One month and some days now,
since the last time we called.
The last time we fell asleep,
the last time we whispered goodnight.

About two months now,
since the last time I saw you.
The last time we smiled together,
the last time our eyes locked.

Almost three months now,
since I fell so in love.
The last time we poured out our hearts,
the last time our hearts were less heavy.

One month now...
since the last time we talked...
The last time I felt safe...
the last time I was truly happy...