And in that infinite fraction of time
You broke,
Because no one told you that it was this hard,
No one disassembled your fake smile,
No one was there to save you.
And so you fell apart
And all your little broken pieces formed a perfect constellation swallowed by emptiness.

Maybe the trouble lies in your failure to seek escape,
You have embellished your sanctuary with pain and hopelessness,
Your hands and feet have become accustomed to the chains,
You welcome the cold beating of rain and thunder in your mid-summer,
You step harder on the glass as it pricks your feet,
You don’t fight the anchor that drags you down,
Because your salvation does not require floating.

Maybe the trouble lies in the definition of depression:
You walk on the edge and half of the time,
You hope you lose your balance.