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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
would you ever walk into a hospital and make your presence known 
by storming into rooms and looking the patients in the eye
"your pain isn't real" and "just fix it yourself"
 falls out of your mouth and sits in the air like something unfathomable
of course you wouldn't 
because their pain is evident and you can see it on their skin 
so why is it so different when someone says "i'm depressed and i'm lost within"
how come that illness sparks something malice inside 
as you spit out the words "you're fine”
when you sit there and can feel the words
"depression is not real" burning in your throat
when you have the nerve to utter the words "just get over it" 
i will not sit there and i will not listen because you just don't know 
you don't know how it feels 
to wake up with a never ending storm cloud
to feel the thunder roll through your fingertips and rip through your very bones
because you don't know how it feels
 to watch the tears make tracks down your face 
and your bottom lip tremble like an earthquake
because you don't know how it feels 
to place a cold piece of metal on your skin as your hisses of pain become the soundtrack of your nights
because you don't know how it feels
to feel the universe coursing through your veins 
and the only means of escape is through your very own blood
because you don't know how it feels to watch your mother's eyes fill with 
"where did i go wrong" and 
"what could i have done better" 
because you don't know how it feels when your brain slowly unwinds 
and you fall into a seemingly endless spiral of pure insanity
because you don't know how it feels 
at 2 am 
when your face is caked in tears 
and your wrists are caked in blood
because you don't know how it feels to become so lost within yourself 
that ending it all seems better than fighting through it 
my scars may not be visible to the naked eye 
but the wounds are left fresh and bleeding in my mind
my hands will always be murderous 
and my fingertips will always be tainted with blood
and i can see in your eyes that you don't understand
because if you did
if you could just understand an ounce of the torment that plagues me every night
then you would never have the nerve to sit there and say 
that mental illness is not real 
and that it will 
"just go away"
-interminable
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