The Battle

As the sun sets,
I lay awake on my bed.
Cold and shivery from the nights frost,
In my mind I forever stay lost.

Hour by hour goes by
As I lie awake all alone and cry.
Dreading the thought of another day
The morning comes and there’s nothing to say.

As mother comes in to wake me up,
She starts to fill another coffee cup.
No sleep, no sleep today
There’s no reason I should stay.

The oceans wind and breeze,
I let it all out with a teary eyed sneeze.
Drifting, drifting farther away,
There’s no reason I should stay.

But as I drift on this small boat,
I think away as I try to cope.
Cope with this heartbreak that keeps going on.
Never ready to try to find someone.

I cry and yelp,
Waiting for someone to help,
But help, it never comes on time.
Always too late, the person already died.

Never showing these battle scars within,
Because people would laugh at this harmful, cursed sin.
The sin called Depression it’s the battle.
Always making the unwounded feel unsettled.

Never knowing when the battle ends,
Always looking for its next “friend”
The voices of the wounded never speak out.
The battle keeps it inside until they start to melt.

The wounded fear what others think.
So they try to hide it in one blink.
But one blink is all one person needs to disappear.
They think to themselves,”I don’t want to be here.”

That’s when it’s too late to see.
Other’s think the wounded are crazy.
So what do they do? Put them in a mental hospital.
That’s why I make these poems my recital.

To reach out to people fighting the battle.
I know it hurts, it makes you fragile.
Start speaking instead of listening to those voices inside your head.
We need no more fighters of the battle dead.

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