What's the use of dreaming

Dreams of rosy hue?

When all I'll ever see is you

Dreaming of hours spent by your side

Reliving our moments, in summer

What's the use of dreaming?

Dreams that never will come true

When we walked upon the rocks

And built our castles in the air

Only to see them come crashing down

What's the use of dreaming?

If our dreams will

Never come true?

With eyes to pained to close

With a mind screaming to loud to sleep

With a body too heavy to move

And a brain too burdened to think

48 hours

And it seems like we will make it 72

Life has become a fog

Once I held her hand

And she said mine warmed hers

Look at them now

Shaken and icy

Are they even mine?

It could go two ways

I lay here

The bed to high a wall to climb

So I lay here

Beside it

Of course it doesnt matter anyway

Do I have a body?

If so I cannot feel it

My mind is too loud

Stay here

Overcome with a brain both dead and yet somehow able to scream

To live as contradiction

Too loud

Too numb

Too sad

Too empty

Too lonely

Too worthless

Or maybe I could rise

Stand and see that face

See her staring back at me

Staring with his eyes

Only his never were smeared in mascara

See that the empty ugly thing inside my brain

Is not limited to inside

Now that they've gone the mask is too

The girl who laughed and smiled

Has left and now I see

What I really am

Hated unwanted ugly pathetic

Stare into his eyes and cry

Scream to the sky

Is this existence?

For I feel everything and yet nothing

Just need sleep

But sleep is too blessed a respite

For this tortured soul

Life must leave me with my brain

Immobile and unable to fight

Unable to hide from what is real

God but how can I live?

Live because death is worse

Laugh because tears make them worry

Or do they?

Remember now

Tis just a burden to cry

Don't do that to them

In fact

It would be best

If you just left altogether

The mask is shattering

Just go away

Just go and hide

Don't make them see

Don't force them to fix that which

Cannot be fixed

Don't let them look upon

That thing you hold inside

It's not like they'd care anyway

My psyche is a manifesto

Of a million little things

An open manuscript full of

All the times I've been told "I love you"

But also of all the times I've been told

"You are worthless"

It contains a million happy songs

But for every nice song, there is a sad one

Or two

Across its pages it it written

"This is girl is strong"

"This girl is funny"

"This girl is important"

But all that's in a cursive script which is oh so small

And powerless

Compared to these thick black letters stamped in my head by an iron hand

"Worthless"

"Die bitch"

"You failed"

"You are a failure"

You see, the human mind goes to the biggest words first

The words which those we trusted forced upon us with inexorable power

But it is so naive to say size is power

Because has you seen the little girl with the heart of flowers? A single kind word and smile from her can make you want to live again

Because have you seen the dog at your feet?

Small but meaning the world

Why should I think size is what matters?

Those words in my head are wrong

Because that girl of flowers wrote so gently on those creamy pages

A pen of lilac and green

Saying she loves me

Saying she cares

Saying I matter

Saying I am loved

She texts me

"How are you?"

Last night was tough

Ended in my tears in a corner

Pushing them all away

I've been in bed two hours, trying to find a reason to get up

Even a reason to keep going

Ignore her for an hour

Lay here too numb to cry

Finally get up and grab my phone

And of course the knife too

Dig the knife into my leg as I type

"Yeah all better, just had a bad day"

Wouldn't ever let her know

How much worse it is than she thinks

Would never let her know that she is the only one keeping me here

Imagining the look on her face when she's told

When she sees me in a coffin

That's all that's keeping me here

Seven marks

Seven bloody slashes and I think I can do it

Bandage up the wounds

Put the knife away

Turn on the Christmas music and dry my eyes

Dance around the house as I clean

The mask is perfect, no one will ever know

That the dance is a red herring

The smile a mask

These jeans hide the pain I feel

Behind my eyes

Always telling myself to get through

Because at the end it will all work out

After however many years of hell

After a lifetime of tears and pain

I will make it to somewhere happy

I will make it and I will have a father again

Something I have lacked my whole life

A father who will hold me and tell me

It's all going to be okay

A father who can see me take my first steps

And feels pride

A father to whom I will show my colorings

That he will hang upon his wall

I will spin in the living room

In my prom dress

And he will have tears in his eyes as he calls me his princess

And walks me to the door where she stands

Ready to take me out

I will have the father I always wanted

But never was here

He's waiting for me up there

He who made me, shall then support me

But does God accept the broken?

For that is what I am

Will I step upon heaven's veranda

Only to be told it's too late

Too late to save a shattered soul

Will I be left pounding on the gates of heaven?

Left to those selfsame demons who live in my mind

Forsaken by the hope which I've held

Abandoned by another father

Because I will never be good enough

Listen, depression isn't romantic, it isn't cute, it isn't any of the things you see it romanticized as.

It's not crying into your boyfriends shoulder as he holds you and tells you it's okay.

It's not him seeing the scars and kissing them and telling you he loves you.

It's not looking pretty and biting your lip as you hold back tears.

Depression is standing in your bathroom, hair a disaster, and not one of those fake "I'm a mess but I still look hot" kind of disasters, full on Bigfoot kinda mess. It's standing there after you get home, teeth clenched on a towel in an attempt to muffle the sobs coming out of you that just won't stop. Standing there with your makeup messed up, mascara clumped on your eyelashes and smudged all over your face. Lipstick smeared and on your teeth. You're ignoring all the text messages from your friends because you honestly believe they hate you and would be better off without you. You take out a knife and start running it over your thighs. At the beginning you feel horrible guilt, the thoughts get stronger, telling you that you're just asking for attention, even though no one will ever see these. But as the blood starts coming you feel the pain go away, the pain in your mind, the thoughts battering you to pieces have quieted. This is the only time you can feel peace.

Depression is going to school every morning, it's having a lump in your throat on the bus ride there, wishing you could cry but unable to. It's getting to school and seeing all your friends laughing and happy, and Turing around and walking away because you know you won't be able to fake the happy they feel, and you don't want to ruin their day. It's never telling them about the thoughts which are almost omnipresent, thoughts about death and about your funeral, how in your head it's empty and desolate, not a soul cared about you even in death. They'll never hear about the slashes in your thighs or the demons in your head because if you try to explain the voices they just worry and never understand.

It's sitting in class and feeling the tears you couldn't cry on the bus well up, unable to stop them you ask

"Est-que je peux aller ou toilette?"

You rush to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall as the tears come, you hide there for much too long, beating yourself up over the class you're missing. When you finally come out you wash your face and plaster the fake smile back on, so no one can tell.

There is so much more, so many more thoughts, many more instances, but these must suffice. I just wish we could stop treating depression as trendy and cute.

Pneumonia kills, but I don't see it trending

Depression does the same, but all I see are emo kid memes and girls on tumblr posting pics of scars with so called "artsy captions"

The parents of the depressed tell us to deal

The teachers say we aren't trying enough

Please, please I beg of you, this is not a pretty picture I paint, but it must be shown, because we are dying, or we are living in hell and I just can't keep going alone.

This isn't pretty

This won't rhyme

This is not poetry

This is just another attempt to feel happy

No not even that

It's another way to try to stay kicking

Find a way to let the bad out

My own doubt

I'll never be valid

I'll never be accepted

Not gay enough for gay

Not straight enough for straight

Just confused and excluded

From everyone

I'll never be loved

Never be cared about

Because in my head the voices tell me

They tell they all hate me

What's the use in being with my friends?

If I know they secretly all despise me

Idiot

Mean

Bitch

Overly emotional

Psychopathic

Uncaring

Insensitive

Unimportant

Useless

Over sensitive

This is just what I am today, yesterday, and the days before that.

God only knows if it will ever go away

Look in the mirror

Look at it and see

These lips are delicate enough

This skin clear

I find no marring or imperfect

In this lovely appearance

Yet sometimes I look and I see

His eyes staring back at me

I see them pierce into my soul

Cry out, because I thought I would see them no more

Please god, I beg of you

Just let me rip them out

Don't make me see his face again

Don't make me see his eyes

False tears streaming down

Don't let me see the guilt he forced into me

For a sin which never was committed

Please god, now these tears are streaming down

Makes me think that

Every time I cry to them

Maybe I'm just doing the same

Please god, never make me see

That fierce hot anger

The anger and rage hidden behind

A mask of insanity

Please god, I don't want to be

Back there standing tall

As he approaches me with fists balled tight

Because I know I cannot stand

A chance against him in this fight

I stand tall to say

You will never beat me, I stand here

As you swing your blows

Blows of flesh, blows of guilt

Please dear, dear god

I don't want to see him

But it is this I fear

I wonder how long it will be

Before I look at her

The way he looked at me

To back

To tell the bright eyed child

With messy bangs

Tell her to hold on to happy

It hasn't turned out the way she thought

Today we strive for joy

Not art

She thinks it's given

To wake up carefree

To wish to get out of bed

To leave her house with a smile

She would never guess that

Everyday I open my eyes

And question if it's worth continuing

She asks me now, with hope in her eyes

Where are the wonderful things she planned?

All the things she hoped to achieve?

All the people she wanted to know?

I tell her gently

Honey it didn't work out that way

Today we strive for continued existence

Not all those far flung ideals

To that little girl

Stay happy

Because one day

I'm not sure when

It all goes away

Put my heart in a bottle and sent it off to see

If maybe just maybe it could find its way

To that one wild pirate at sea

Bobbing up against the side of her ship

Let it sing to her

That I am here on this desert island

Clinging on to hope

Tie a note around the cork

"If found please return

Because I only sent it out

To see if you could learn

To love me the way I love you"

Hoping to see the sails on the horizon

Saying she saw

She cared

She came

Please save me from this island

All the trees and all the stars

They make me think of you

Because no matter how many monsters

Lurk in the branches

Among the clouds

I could stop running from them

Sit and enjoy the view

If only she were here

To fight them off first