another poem about functional depression

it wears off like potpourri,
like a child’s interest in their hamster,
like the grip of winter

you don’t believe in
equals and opposites

i don’t believe in
the kind of joy
the people in
laundry detergent commercials
seem to possess

try counting how many
sharp objects you see in a day
and then imagine if
your first instinct was
to see them pierce your skin

it’s not that you do it,
it’s how much effort it takes you
not to


5 thoughts on “another poem about functional depression

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