My kind of depression,
is the inability to move.
It's the ache of wanting to be useful,
but never having the energy to.
My kind of depression,
is the numbness,
the goddamn dizzying numbness
that I feel every single day.
My anxiety,
is the crippling fear of doing something wrong,
worse yet,
in public.
My anxiety,
is shaking, shivering, screaming.
Quickened breaths,
tightening throats.
My self harm,
is my skin seething,
begging,
longing for contact.
My self harm,
is that shiny blade in the corner of my room,
hidden,
but so visible to me.
Suicide doesn't scare me anymore,
I've come to think of it as a friend.
A friend who constantly threatens me,
someone right behind me.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
