Why is my depression not real?

Just like the caged birds who think that flying is an illness

You see your tears as a sign of weakness

But little do you know,that  just like your body needs water to rub off its dirt

So does your soul needs those tears to wash away your sins

Just like a little kid who shrieks in utter terror

At the sight of his very first knee scratch

You immediately head to the ER  everytime your heart cracks

Eyes darting from one face to another of helpless doctors,

Lips sealed,throat dry

No sound escapes but a hopeless cry

 how can you say that an elephant is sitting on your chest

Your ribcage cracking and breaking  under its  weight

How can they listen to your words when they can’t even hear your deafening screams

So you  run back home,run to your darkest place

And cover up your scars and burns in shame

You hide them behind the blankets of laughter and smile

When they are the very signs of resistance you face everyday

In a battlefield that is your mind, that prison from which you can never run away

O forlorn soul,stop looking at your veins

And wondering what they’d look like spilt open

Your wrists and thighs aren’t canvas

And those razor blades aren’t brushes

So please stop shrinking yourself  to tiny pieces

You were never meant to fit in a box anyways

And know that your pain isn’t a mountain you climb to the top

Until euphoria  overwhelms you

Your pain is nothing but a wide endless plain

Of which you can’t see the end