As many people know I'm a writing major...with a psychology minor. Therefore basically all I do with my life is write poetry about mental health. Here goes nothing:
No one asks
if it will get better; if with age
the depression will stop being
so damn depressing.
Instead, they cover it;
with blush
and a layer of
ruby red lip gloss
beautifying, romanticizing not being able to sleep at night.
Maybe depression is just
sadness in a
masquerade or a pretty red bow; however
it feels like fire, after your nerves
have been skewered, and
you feel nothing, nothing at all.
Let me know
when you feel something
I'd like to know
how it feels, to bleed.
Thanks for reading.