We're Not Crazy

It comes in shadows, slowly hovering above you.

Neck tied up in mud and just like that you’re drowning.

Thoughts in your head restrain you from climbing,

up the ladder of success, oh wait, let this be the last time.


Drags you back down, pushing and pulling from every side,

every angle like there's no tomorrow. There’s no tomorrow.

sorrow and grief fill your soul, oh please make this pain end

let this be the last time. Wait, there’s more.

That creeping voice at the back of your head says there’s more.


I was at a party last week when i began sobbing, people came up and asked

“Hey why aren't you out partying”

And just like that, within the blink of their eyes, the snapping of their fingers i surrendered crying

no explanation, no limitation, just tears of sorrow.


Most of us hide our pain as we see everyone around us free from the chains

that ties those of us who can't regain

strength to get back up, courage to fight that fight, hope for a better tomorrow

let this be the last time.


We’re not crazy. Our uncontrollable thoughts are our voices

how can we help ourselves from thinking when that butterfly shaped organ is plastered right in the center of our foreheads.

Depression is viscious it is a mental illness

It wraps you up tears you down and you go from living to missing

a soul, a precious being.


Let this be the last time.


You find yourself dreaming, hoping, yearning for an escape

from yourself  to find that there’s no exit

the only way to exit is to end it

maybe if you hang the rope a little tighter

or pass the pills a little faster

this will all be over ..


This IS the last time

One in six adolescents are diagnosed with depression. Only two of those get to see the end to their oppression.

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

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