Depression

Depression is such an ugly word

I mean, it’s an ugly feeling

But there’s a lot of ugly in the world

And at least it can sound nice like

Malaria. That word invokes melodies in my mind

And maybe the beat is kept by

Chattering teeth in a burning body

And the siren of a headache that

lives between your eyes

And the slow gentle drip of moisture

Escaping you and the tired thuds

Of your corpse hitting the floor

Of sickness and that feeling where your

Lunch just came back for dinner

All tied together by the refrain of that dry cough

But, I don’t like to talk about depression

It is such an ugly word for such an ugly feeling

At least, if you die of malaria

They’ll write on your grave that you died of illness

If you die of depression

They may say, you were loved, but you didn’t know

They may say you were bullied, but the truth is

Nobody can bully you worse than you can bully yourself

Nobody can hate you, more than you hate you

Your mind is always ready to pounce

Always searching for your weaknesses to dig up

So you always know how wrong you are

How ugly you are

How selfish, lazy, unimportant you are

How nobody could ever love you

When you can’t even love yourself

And no use getting help from other people,

They can’t imagine, they’d rather not talk about it

And even after you survive depression

There is no medal, no story, nothing you can do

But keep it buried inside you with shame

And once it comes, does it ever really go

And once you’re ashamed of something

Doesn’t it always have power over you?

And once you realize how much you can hate yourself

How do you even begin to rebuild that bridge

And learn to see the good in yourself again

And all I’m saying is that for all the ugly

At least it could have a pretty name