This poem is directed toward those who struggle with depression. I hope to spread awareness with this piece:
The young man, no one ever knew,
However memory has given man simple clues,
The ghoulish figure, arched back head down,
Never miss a local story.
Raindrops from his soul outweighs every cloud,
Never treated right, fighting all of his life,
Depression hits him hard, edging the end of own life,
The blade a new shade of red,
Attacked by thoughts, words from “friends,”
Simple words, written so eerily,
Line wrists, waists and legs too evenly,
Physical bruises only last seconds for mine,
But mental scars are brutal memories of time.
Bryce Chandler, Bellefonte