This is not a depression poem,
This is not a cry for help,
This is me trying to be the best of my ability..for you.
You alway stuttered when you said my name.
You always picked at your collar and mumbled sweet words that I could never decifer.
You whistled in the park the day you opened yourself up for your own sake, and I cried.
This isn't a depressing poem this is me trying to the best of my ability to fix you.
You had to go in april to the place over the hill, where white walls flood and doors don't close. And I whistled for you to come home to me. Because I never wanted it to end like this.
This isn't a depressing poem this is me trying to pick myself up.
You said you didn't want to be my friend anymore, and explained you didn't know why, but that day I cried hard enough I swear god could hear me.
This isn't a depressing poem this is me explaining how much I needed you.