We emphasize how
Beautiful
Nature is when it dies,
Yet we shun the mentally unwell
When they are in the midst
Of their own harsh winter.
Nobody ever noticed them asking for help
The same way the leaves change colours
Before they fall from their branches.
There is nothing lovely about
Falling from Grace,
But it is not an invisible thing.
It can be seen in the
Lack of shine in young eyes,
It can be heard in
Earsplitting silences that say more
Than any words in the Oxford English Dictionary.
There is hope.
If you push through Winter,
You will wake up to the feeling of Spring,
And you too can be Reborn again.