I could write a poem about the beautiful sky.
Lillies and butterflies and birds flying by.
I can write happily ever after fairy tales,
Or of Walking the beach, collecting shells.

Instead I write of the things that I feel.
Dark and melancholy has a certain appeal.
Today's a good day to be happy, I hear.
They say happy is a choice, but I don't see it that clear.

When you see me out, I'll smile and wave.
I want to be remembered for the love I gave.
My misery don't love the company of others.
It isolates, so I don't spread that to my sisters and brothers.

But I can't help what's in my eyes,
And I've never been one for telling lies.
And I refuse to keep silent my truth to tell!
But I'm not asking you to buy it, it's not for sale.

I'm not the only one who feels the weight of depression....