You light yourself on fire
Trying to destroy the darkness that’s your reality
And your whole community comes to put it out.
Family, friends, everyone cares when the fire alarm goes off.
The hospital assesses the damage
Stamps out the flames
Then tosses you to the wind.
Now you’re just a pile of ash
Empty and barren and scorched,
People have stopped bringing water buckets these days
And yet you still choke on the smoke.
People who don’t have depression are obsessed with the Phoenix metaphor:
That from these embers you will rise again anew
But your depression is an ugly beast
That at full strength can even consume a Phoenix.
The truth is that you stay a pile of ashes for a long time
While you try to rebuild.
I just wish everyone would stick around and help with this burned and shaky structure of me.
I hate having to yell “fire”
Just to get someone to turn the sprinklers on.