A little accident.

Dumb, not grave.

Small talks.

Turning into something more.

What to you was seemingly random,

To me was treasure.

You were there when no one else dared to stay.

Yet you never knew that.

Out of small talks,

I spilled truth.

I made myself a burden.

I made you worry,

I'm sorry.

I ponder if it was wrong for me;

Wrong to even speak to you so openly.

You said it was fine,

Even though I know I take much of your time;

Though I thank you;

Letting some of the bottled grief get out of me.

But we don't even talk anymore.

But even if we do;

*You don't have to lie anymore

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.

Dark night,
Cars pass,
Lights on.

Can they see me through the windshield?
What would they see?
Red eyes,
Wet face,
Blank expression.

Unbrushed hair,
Pushed behind my ears.

Who am I to strangers?
11pm
Driving around,
Aimlessly,
Because I can't keep it together anymore. 

Especially at night.
If I reach out,
No one answers,
I guess I just stopped trying,

Or maybe you did.

The monster hidden under my bed chose to lay beside me,

Wearing the face of a man I knew,

Revealing the truth of a sweet dream— a bitter nightmare;

Violated.

Dirtied.

Disgusted.

Unfa­thomable,

To be done by someone whom I'd thought can never do such things.

I will grieve,

I will falter;

But I will not let it eat me.

I shall be the rose both of the beauty and the danger;

I will stand and fight with the power I ought to have;

I will vanquish that very monster:

Without fear,

Without hesitation.

I vow to never let it consume me;

**I am a warrior and I shall forever be!