We let numbers define us
And society redesign, thus
We learn to hate us
With every word we use to cuss
Depression isn't a phase
There is no definition for our craze
We burden ourselves with living
Because our existence, is not worth forgiving
It's not a friend we seek
But to see, so to speak
A beacon, not with hope
Anything but a downward slope
Despite every instinct to say it's okay
To think no one understands, there's no way
Love and hate is our inner beast
The one you deny, is the one you feast
There will be moments where the drought of joy seems unending
And instances we will keep pretending
Open up, between your chest
Allow the emotions to be addressed
Be accepting of the fact that you were wrong
That we've been standing here all along
Put an end to the aimless fuss
And let us be, the great great us
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely written, Chas. Thanks