I am a Walking Diagnosis
At first the word depression
Doesn't belong to you
Your mother writes-off your self-destruction
As over-dramatics, you're too young
To be broken
You don't deserve a real diagnosis
So you keep the condition under your skin
Peeling your oranges and wondering
If your apathy is something everyone goes through
You don't want to be seen as causing touble again
So you sit down and shut up and
Decide that you're absoulutely fine
You're just going thorugh a rough patch
It doesn't matter that one night while babysitting the neighbors
You took a pair of scissors to the inside of your left arm and
Discovered that this is what being alive is like
You are not depressed
But you take to writing wake up on the inside of your wrist
As if pleading with yourself to find feeling again
It's not an addiction
Even though you come home from a perfectly good day and end up
Cutting your skin and only being able to sleep when you're
Bleeding
You've just got a strong darkness
Even though there's
Now way
Out of this