Things I Want To Express

could i eat it?

Depression, what is it?
Could I eat it?
Yes, if you have a binge eating disorder.
Is it malleable?
Yes, if easily hide your sensitive heart.
Is it flammable?
Yes, if you're suicidal.
I'm told that I'm not depressed,
I have depression.
Depression is the parasite in body of the carrier that has darkened and
Decayed overtime.
Depression is that toy you were attached to
As a little kid, as a little boy
Unwilling to let go.
Depression in the palms of those who have self worth is like grains of sand,
Passing through the edges of their fingers
Falling to the ground and left forgotten.
Depression to me is a solid and real object
Glued to my hands,
Unwilling to loosen the pain.
My dad tells me to not treat my mom like a slave
While he whips her back bone,
Allowing her to fall into the abyss, the black hole of her broken soul.
Years and years of her walking on pins and needles,
Her own husband demanded to ride on her back throughout the journey.
My dad is my depression
And the needles piercing through my mother's skin, then flesh and then into her bones is my
God forsaken life.
Every night everyone but my dad is awake.
He blames my mom for being the cause
But dad, it's the never ending torture of knowing everyday is another day closer to that day, the day we are laid in our deathbed.
It's the realization that maybe
Sitting in front of a screen
And laughing at memes
Would resolve our problem.
What about mom, dad?
Every time she sews
Her self worth together,
You tear down her walls and cut through her seems.
Dad, you said depression is normal
But normal is constantly running on a treadmill,
Persistently running away from the fear of hating your body
But not ever getting
Anywhere.
If depression was an all-you-can-eat restaurant,
I would have devoured everything,
even the bricks and cement.
If depression was the metal
And I was the blacksmith,
I would have made a sword that breaks in the battle of this horrid life.
I would have lost the fight.
If depression were the poems I continually write,
I would have written a 10,000 page diary,
Based off of poems
So real and painful
That it would burn you.
And that dad, is exactly what I'll do.