![]() What's So Funny?A Poem by Music For The Wounded Soul![]() This piece describes me more than anything I've ever written. I've experienced these things and that's where the inspiration came from. It's a poem for the silent majority.![]() Everyday, I hear people laugh at depression, at bullying. I hear people treat it like a joke, or I hear people pretend to have it to somehow make themselves more “cute”. I’m here to ask you, what’s so funny?
What’s so funny about a kid that wakes up every morning feeling worthless? What’s so funny about a kid who has bruises and cuts all over their legs and arms from them beating themselves up for being stupid? Tell me, what’s so funny about a kid that tried and tried to end their life but couldn’t because the ambulance would always get there too soon?
Why do you tell those kids" those kids that hide by their locker, or in the bathroom crying, everyday, that their problems are fictional? What’s fictional about it?
Their problems are so real, they get sent to hospitals because the schools think it’s beyond professional help. Now, because they’ve seen the horrors behind hospital walls, they’re too scared to go for professional help, or they now believe that the mental hospitals are where they belong.
There is nothing funny about depression. It’s an all out war that hundreds and hundreds die to. Hundreds and hundreds that fought it so long that they physically couldn’t fight anymore.
I’ve dealt with depression in the past. I’m still dealing with it now. What I am telling you is that it’s not a joke; it’s not something that should be taken lightly.
It’s darkness. A blanket that covers you with emotions so negative that it makes you burst into tears. It’s a thick and heavy sheet that suffocates you, getting you lost in its folds so that when you give up with finding the end of it, you die.
It takes your breath away, but not in the way where you smile" no, no" we’re talking in the way where you panic because you can’t find air. Where you grip the table you’re sitting at, coughing and coughing up something that’s not there. It takes your last sense of sunshine, killing every flower you ever had in your field of happiness.
It chases away anyone who could ever help you. Your family, your friends It bites their toes if they come near you; telling them, “Get back, they’re mine” and you’ll never get them back.” Making them so scared for you, they lose hope.
Which is why you have to cut it out. Cut out the jokes, the name-calling.
“Emo”. Do you know what that means? Emotional. And emotional is damn right because these kids had to face through so much; having family or friends betray their trust when they were young, having to have dealt with kids pulling their hair, shoving them against doors, scratching them or kicking them; having them see their parents fight day after day because of drug abuse or alcoholism. Having to hear them call each other worthless.
They’re emotional because there’s a rope that’s around their neck and the more they try to run away, the tighter it gets. They’re emotional because they’ve been called worthless, skanky, f****t, and stupid all their lives that they’ve grow to believe it.
Depression is a face carved with scars and covered with a porcelain mask; with her poison lips and hair so long it goes for miles, with its strands grabbing you tight and pulling you into its black lake, causing you to drown.
The joking and bullying needs to stop and it needs to stop now. Saying their issues aren’t real needs to be put to an end.
When you see a kid suffering from depression, don’t laugh. Instead, offer your hand. Take a step towards them and if it tries to bite your toes that’s okay, keep trying. Let it know that you’re not afraid.
Don’t tell them they’re beyond reach. Don’t call them freaks or attention seekers, because maybe that’s what they need; attention. Attention from those who might possibly understand. Attention from those outside the thick cloud that fills their lungs and veins.
Show them they’re not alone.
Help them. © 2013 Music For The Wounded SoulAuthor's Note
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Added on May 18, 2013 Last Updated on May 18, 2013 Author![]() Music For The Wounded SoulSanford, FLAboutI just want to be heard. In a world of silence, I want to be the one that screams the loudest. more..Writing
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