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.
Some never speak of it, like it's a sin for confession.
But I think we all need to know there are more.
A world full of people who feel sadness to the core.

I won't be ashamed or pretend it's not real.
We should all feel free to speak what we feel.
If you can't relate and don't understand,
It doesn't mean you've got the upper hand.

Just think if we all offered each other a hand up!
If we all gave a little and filled each other's cup.
Instead we judge what we don't comprehend,
Making feelings be something we need to defend.

So I don't write about sweet smelling roses.
I write of the thorns and problems it imposes.
Because both are real and need validation.
They grow together, there's no separation.

The rose never shames the thorn for growing.
The thorn never hinders the roses beauty from showing.
They simply grow together and let the other be.
Both co-existing in peaceful harmony.

So you speak of the good things, the happy and bright.
I'll smile and encourage your shining light.
I'll write of the sad things, the dark and deranged.
We're not so different, thoughts and feelings just rearranged.

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