Not a coward
But a cup overflowing
With the damning dark
Not a coward
But a human capable
Of emotion's full spectrum
Not a coward
But a father unable
To see through the deafening dark
Not a coward
But a man plagued
By plundering depression
Not a coward
But someone like me
Wading through a cell
Not a coward
But a person trying to breathe
Yet inhaling only that which drowns
His muses became his captors
His brain became his prison
His family became his mourners
But he was not a coward
He just wasn't a survivor
Soldiers slain under the hand of their enemies have not died because they cowered from their duties. They were overwhelmed, perhaps disadvantaged. We misunderstand depression as a society. We think it's a choice, something we can turn off and on. Like our phones, or the lights in our houses. But humans are not switches. Chester was not a coward.
He was a human.
