I am not sure who I am anymore,

they say depression
is like being at the bottom
of a black hole, unable to see the sky,

but I see the sky,

the sun burns my skin,
and the stars taunt me
with their promises of sleep
that are never meant for me;

I am sickly sad
and I’m not getting any better,

my heart is full and cracked
from the strain of carrying the scars
of a thousand wounds ,

I cannot stand with a heart
so heavy

and would you really blame me
if I made it stop?