The fight

Every morning I paint my lipstick on

and I con the world into believing that I belong

I smile and joke

and try to float

the current to the end of day

trying, trying to pave my way

to seamlessly behave

as is expected

living others’ perspective

then home, where I’m alone

my lipstick washed by tears

the pressured load to please

its finally released

and I can breath

now freed

to mourn my desperation

for this depression situation

and with each tear that falls

you’re a failure” Life calls

ungrateful and lazy

pull yourself together you crazy!”

failure, failure, failure echos

as death solemnly smiles and beckons

but still I wake and put my lipstick on

I might be done but I won’t be gone

a tug of war Depression and Life

I’ll participate, butI don’t walk away from a fight

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3 comments

Say what you mean, and mean what you say

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