Even Depressed People Say That They'Re Fine Poem by Jesse Ellsbury

Depression is something nobody gets,
not even those afflicted with it.
With the sponge on your eyes and the veil on your head,
you’re too busy wond’ring what it’s like to be dead
to even see what’s going on,
when you look at yourself all you see is a pawn
captured too early in the game,
you spend so much time seeking someone to blame
that you never ask what you did to get to that place
where the sun never shines,
where everything is offered and yet nothing is mine.

But you get used to the pain that you feel every day,
and the loneliness leads you to push others away,
you feel so alone and you want relief,
but you’re afraid that the effort will lead to more grief
it’s not worth it and so you conclude
that it’s safer to spend your life in your room.
If you don’t take the test you have no chance to fail,
just beware your cocoon doesn’t become a jail.

Depression is when the pleasure of life is outweighed by the pain,
when the past hits the future and tomorrow is stained,
you can’t see the ground so you refuse to walk,
you can’t dare to speak because someone might talk.

Depression is a day when the clouds won’t part,
and not a drop falls on your lips which are parched
like the desert you feel whenever you see
the things you used to love or the people who believe
you can snap out of this
with the flick of a switch,
well if that’s true,
then where is it?

Depression is when help you are offered
matters less than the hurt that you have,
when you hold onto that pain
like a junkie holds their vein
in a closed loop of cold suicide.

Depression is a state of mind
that confuses the truth with its own lies.
But before you conclude
that none of this applies to you,
remember:
even depressed people say that they’re fine.