Hello there.
General Depression.

Corny Star Wars reference aside,
welcome back.
Gotta say,
didn't really want cha back,
but here you are...  Bags and all.
Jeeze, what year are those bags from anyway?
I feel like you should have let those go, awhile ago.
Okay, so you're not going away.
At least not anytime soon.
It's just, when you're here
it's hard to find topics of conversation.
The silence isn't comforting,
but it persists.
I feel like conversations flowed like rivers until you became the dam that stoped the flow.
Now the once prospering ecosystem, is sick and unbalanced.
That ecosystem I call my mind is crying out to the operators to open the gates; let the river flow.
But I sit on shores with waves in the sand that say 'movement once happened here.'
I feel the dust bowl coming
all the signs are here, I've seen this all before.
I have to plant trees now
before everything blows away.

I have tried to speak through metaphor and veiled words and the abstract picture they paint
I try, and try again to paint a coherent picture
but they can't see it
they can't see where I stressed every syllable and deeper meaning of the creases in the paper
the marks on the blank slate
my blank slate
somehow, I feel I can really only speak in metaphor because as soon as I dont
as soon as my paint on the wall becomes scribbles and letters strung together to create a message to create something that I think the world should see, should know,
they shut me down
shut me out
because I have finally found my voice
metaphor is what I use to bend the rules around my words
tricking those who watch into standing far enough away from me they don't see the power and point
Metaphor is what I use to trick the simpleminded and the hateful into seeing what I want them to see and not what I really really mean
Metaphor is what I use to tell the world about the things I cannot say out loud the things I will not say to the ones I used to love who failed me
or maybe I failed them
But what difference does it make who failed who because I will never speak to them and they will never speak to me and this is a happy consensus
But solemn silence turns to bitter words and the screams of the disadvantaged and these will not do
for most, silence was a temporary solution that cannot fix the sense of dread from being looked down on for fighting back
So metaphor is a saving grace
a safety net between you and your intended audience
between you and the world so you have the power to speak freely without fear of repercussions even though the law says repercussion will be avoided
People have taken it upon themselves to bend the law to fit them and not you
to fit their opinions over your facts and their threats over your pleas and cries of help and surrender to them
your words mean nothing
they have to mean nothing because that would mean their authority would be in check and we don't want the white man throwing a fit because he didn't get what he wanted
this prejudice will break us
has broken us
but we're still standing
held up by public image and the necessity for autonomy because we cannot be a broken nation
but let me ask you this
are you willing to stand with a smile stapled to your face and your hands tied behind your back and you feet chained to the ground?
are you willing to stand as a metaphor yourself
as something people will not question because you look like every other perfect person who stood in your place?
are you willing to stand by and watch as they cover and direct prying eyes elsewhere at the slightest hint of a tear in the metaphor
a tear in the demented beauty they have built around you? because we will not be seen as a broken nation
and finally, are you willing to stand alone against the world because you have chosen to support something that cannot, will not support you back?
let me ask you this
would you rather waste your time writing metaphors for someone who might not even understand or accept what you want to tell them?
would you rather spend your life hiding from what you seek to change because what you want to change is influenced by bigots with power and prejudice?
would you rather be discreet than bleeding on the front lines fighting for something you believe in or something you want people to see or something that needs to change?
would you rather be deemed a pointless poet or a powerful influence.
I am a pointless poet using metaphor as a wall to stand behind to avoid the shrapnel.
but I'm tired of being misunderstood.