Depression is lying, a clever disguise,
It’s me saying, “I’m fine,” while my spirit dies.
Faking a laugh to cover the pain,
While tears fall silently, again and again.

I promise, this stillness is not from lack of trying,
But your words cut deep, their echoes denying:
“Happiness is a choice,” “You’ll be okay,”
“You’ve nothing to be sad about today.”

No one would choose this endless fight,
This shadowed world with no guiding light.
For years I’ve battled this heavy despair,
Wishing for freedom, gasping for air.

You don’t see the demons that whisper and jeer,
You can’t hear their lies or feel the fear.
The weight they place, crushing inside,
It’s hidden from view, so I learned to hide.

When did we decide to ignore the disease,
To take “I’m fine” at face value with ease?
When did we stop looking behind the mask,
Or hearing the truth in the questions we ask?

But maybe the problem isn’t just you,
Maybe I’ve built walls too high to break through.
Perhaps it’s my voice that’s been denying,
Hiding the pain, pretending, and lying.

I’ve decided to speak, to tell what is real:
I’m hurting, I’m struggling, I can barely feel.
Sometimes I suffocate, gasping for air,
Wishing I’d let you in, but too full of despair.

Maybe it’s not you, but me, holding the key,
The lock on my door that keeps you from me.
And if I could open, if I could let you see,
Maybe everything would change with my door’s key.

On the worst days, depression is a fog,
A cloud so thick I’m lost in the smog.
It steals my thoughts, leaves me numb inside,
Trapping me where the shadows reside.

My room, once a haven, is now a cell,
Darker than any prisoner’s hell.
I’m not alone, yet I’m never free,
For the demon inside has taken me.

Depression is possession, a cruel lie,
I’m just an object it claims as its prize.
Thoughts race and crash, relentless, unkind,
Leaving me blind to what’s ahead, stuck behind.

Mistakes replay like a haunting refrain,
Every choice, every step, just leads to pain.
Regrets flow fast, like tears in the shower,
Hoping to cleanse, to regain my power.

But the water won’t wash the shame away,
It clings to my soul, a price I must pay.
On the best days, I forget it exists,
The weight, the whispers, the clenched fists.

I’m not just surviving—I truly thrive,
Feeling alive, my soul revived.
On good days, my room’s no longer a cage,
It’s a sanctuary where I turn the page.

The demons retreat, the lies fade away,
And I feel the sun light my way.
Mental illness is there, a shadow I see,
But I’ve learned it is not my identity.

On those days, I remember who I can be,
A person with strength, resilient and free.
But fear of judgment-built walls around me,
A fortress I thought would protect and keep me.

Yet those walls weren’t shelter—they were my chains,
Binding me tighter, increasing my pain.
Eventually, I knew I could no longer pretend,
Living alone wasn’t something to defend.

So here I am, telling you what’s real,
I’m hurting, I’m struggling, but I want to heal.
Perhaps I’ve felt lonely because I’ve shut you out,
Ignored your knocking, wrapped myself in doubt.

But today, I’m ready to change what I see,
By showing you my heart, my door’s key.