Stop making depression beautiful.
For, it sure isn’t.
It’s destructive, limiting, and brutal.
All of it is unpleasant.
The craving of a razor, dancing across your skin.
I’ve been through it, trust me, you don’t understand.
No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to win.
I wasn’t allowed to go downstairs, staying in bathrooms for long? It was banned.
I couldn’t just stop; it was a lot harder than some may think.
How can I love myself? When I weigh more than her?
In this armor of steel, I have my chinks.
All of the others called me fat, and with them I concurred.
Eventually, you have to accept you for you.
You can’t change your bones or your pigment.
You must ignore those, that yell at you, “MOO!”.
My parents got me help, they were quite persistent.
Yes, I weigh 134, at the height 5’7.
My skin is pale, my eyes are hazel, and I have a curvy structure.
All that matters to me now, is that I’m accepted into heaven.
You have to accept you, for you, all of your flaws and features.
For you, my dear, are one lovely creature.
Depression is a battle, that isn’t easily won.
But, once you overcome it. You can finally look to the sun.
You can wake up early, and accept your fate.
But, do it quick before it’s too late.