Confession

It’s not tidy this depression thing

You can’t wrap me up in cellophane

Mask the pain.

I won’t react or act the way I should

Do the things a proper depressed person could

Slit my wrists or cut my arms

My depression lacks those usual harms.

But I will definitely push you away.

Get angry when you judge my ways.

Because depression isn’t what the leaflet says.

It comes in all sorts of wrapping

A hard crash of the skull or an incessant nagging.

I’m sorry if I can’t be the one you save

By encouraging me to remain brave

By telling me to try to get out of bed

Any advice on how to leave my head?

So let’s call this a true confession

From me to you about my depression

It’s not neat certainly not light

So don’t get annoyed if I don’t get it right.

(C) Slumpless

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