Midnight Jazz


this intangible idea

that we desperately wish

was something we could grasp

this ailment isn’t tangible

this isn’t something you can cut away

or rehab away

this is a poisonous mind

folding us into a darkness

only we can see

wrapping us up in pitch black rooms

chaining us to steel walls

that look a lot like our beds

making it impossible to rise

bringing scarred skin

to the surface

because if we see our pain

maybe others will see it too

we’re crying out for help 

with their mouths and eyes closed

we are the unheard

the unseen

the unnoticed 


we are the statistics.



Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741