Depression,
some said that it is a problem with the mind
but for some, it is just merely a term for sadness
that taken for granted, it just became a norm,
that should have never been, because
it is more than a word spoken at midnight,
a label for the shattered concretes left inside,
not a song for the dead waiting for sunrise,
it is not even written at the back of drugs,
or *** or loneliness. It is not an alarm clock
to hear first thing in the morning because
all you ever wanted is to finish the day.
It is not even written as disclaimers
on boxes of blades, or pills,
or wishes of being gone. It is nowhere
to be found in maps for people
wishing of a home from the coldness.

Imagine, voices owning yourself
as you hear mutterings at unholy hours,
and a war inside of yourself as if
you were taught how to win a war.
Your fingers tremble like twigs almost broken
by the wind passing through.
Still, you wanted to be drifted away,
somewhere far, where you can be free,
from the whirlpool stirring inside of you.

It is not just an excuse for someone to
lock himself inside the bathroom,
and think of ways of killing himself.
It is not spoken by the sound of electric fan
buzzing to break the silence of absence.
It is not a seesaw at a park because
no one would push, and there is no force
to pull you back, and gravity
does not always keep you in-tucked.

Depression is trying to loosely tie
the laces of your shoes - anytime
you would lose at one end or another.
It is pulling rubber band, with
elasticity pulling you that you do
not know how to stand in between
because you would always fall
at one side.

And you tell it to people
not because you want them
to tell you that you are okay.