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The Black Wolf

A Performance Poem

The Black Wolf

How do I say my depression is unbearable when I'm stuck in this place?

How do I say it without hurting the people who've tried so hard to make things okay, who've been there for me almost every single day?

How do I say, that I'm just unhappy, that the black wolf is resting on my bed when I sleep, and I barely moved until 4:30 because the cold iron chains around me slipped just slightly?

As the wolf finally slides to the end of my bed, just so I can get some cereal before skulking back into the room where I am now allowed to sit up straight.

Don't you dare push me! Don't you dare tell me work harder, when all around me people are stressing, screaming, and tormenting. Lashing out at me because one day they saw me smile they assume there's nothing wrong with me,

Like my head is filled with butterflies and blue skies, blue birds singing from branches up high,

Not the blue light resonating from my phone, the depression rays adding to the misery in my brain.

As Facebook just reminds that I'm an undiscovered ghost, a lonely soul, desperate to discover a kindred spirit.

Dreaming of future that will never be, as I can barely get myself to write a story that I'm hoping will take me far away from here. Where freedom can find me, glide down to me, and breathe life into me, whisk me to the place I'm meant to be.

But the black wolf rests his body on my bed, howling at the purple sky, he knows the future is as dark as his obsidian eyes.

So I sit beside him, I run my hands through his blackened fur, there's comfort with each stroke, security in knowing that I will not make the journey, but love the arts too much to loose hope that a better version of me can make that the climb, having strength to carry the baggage,

To chase the wolves away, to put their pain into something that makes people feel more than simply "okay"

As they relate to his pain, his bleeding heart that drips onto his paper, as he speaks into the mic. He'll help people realize that life, isn't about happiness,

Sometimes you need to tell the butterflies to “fuck off” So you can feel the pain, and accept the change,

The journey to happiness is filled with pain, and bitterness, riddled with sadness from the hurt you thought you could push away,

As hope that the grass might be greener the next day, still remains,

That you'll wake up, one day, and the black wolf residing in your bed is now a beautiful husky continually liking your face. His blues eyes gazing at you, hoping for a future where the better version of you isn't someone like you,

But you, and only you.

You look at the text from your mum, she's asking, “if you're okay?” And you say, “you've been battling something that doesn't seem to go away, yet today, today is a happy day, a rare day, but I think I need to spend time with people who make me feel okay, who help me to see the future I'm desperate to create”

Help me keep the black wolf at bay,

Help me see the Husky that eagerly runs outside to embrace the next day.