No one choses to suffer,
No one choses to "always be sad",
How could you say Depression is only a 'choice'?
"Oh, it's only just a fad."

You must think it's simple,
To go on and wake up,
Your life must be so easy,
Hell, it isn't so tough.

Tell me about all the money, that can be counted in bills,
How many people are truly there for you,
How you live atop a hill.

Was it you who was nominated, the best at your job?
The one who graduated and had enough to eat?
Or were you the one I last saw,
Who cried himself to sleep?

Perhaps you were the one who had enough to be on his own,
Maybe you were the one in a bar, drinking yourself away-alone.

Tell me how you live your life, always with a smile and your ego so high,
How you never once sat and had thought, "I might as well die."

Depression is not hypocritical, it is a sickness to many,
Whether or not you can or cannot count every penny.
It doesn't always scream, it doesn't always cry,
It can often be found in painful laughs, or a clever written lie.

Some may suffer gravely, some found in death,
Some may be pained ocasionally or with every strangled breath.
It is found in young or in old, man or woman of the world,
Some by the embraced or those who have been hurled.

The next time you speak of fortune,
To insult or to brag,
Make sure your own life isn't begging-
behind a fitted mask.