Depression

Depression

Can no one see me as I cry

For help. Can no one see how weak

And weary I have become, or how the

Joy has abandon my soul. I try to

Free myself from the cold dark vault that

Has me chained tightly to the wall of my mind.

My body trembles at the thought of being forgotten by

My loved ones. Listen! Listen to my lost soul!

But my cries for help are a mere hum

To the outside. I try! I try! For hours

Until my body is violently shaking with

Anger. Most days I feel vacant.

It is terrible that no one can see or

Feel my melancholy demeanor. Or do they see

Me as another hypochondriac? Do they not believe

In mental disorders? Am I the only one

Who is suffering with such mental agonies? Perhaps

It is not real. Should I express my mental pain

In a physical way? Will I feel again? I

Want to feel, because feeling numb is torture.

I cannot believe I did such a grotesque

Thing to myself. I shuddered at all

The blood that fell to the floor. But

This mere action had me swooned. I continue

And continue. It feels real but it makes

Me feel faint. If I do not stop I

Feel as if I might die. What if I cry

Out for help one last time. I let

Out a final scream of despair. There I

Saw an outstretched arm pull me from the

                                                               Abyss.