The Curse

Torn between useless visions,

I sought to free my soul from what left me bound in invisible chains -

oh, you aimed for unimaginable gain.

It wasn't that I cried out and no one heard me, It was that I screamed and no one looked back.

So I began going through lists in my head,

checking off each part of me that is now dead — useless.

Each morning, as it became harder to pick up my feet,

I found myself praying for some kind of relief.

It seemed like even God himself could not give to me. Relief that I could only give myself.

But I would fight. I would fight to not give into that relief because through the pain and the torture,

I found my ultimate inspiration of truth.

It wasn't that I was what I had told myself I was all along — useless.

It was that I was priceless,

Derived from strength and made whole by my mother, and her mother before me, who had all felt the weltering sadness that life had built deep, deep into their soul.

A curse that I was sure to carry. A curse that I was sure to take to my grave with me.

Mind over matter, they say.

But see, I could tell them my truths on any given day.

They still wouldn't see. Not you, anyways.

This invisible curse that we carry on our shoulders. The one that weighs us down and torments our minds.

The one that begs to be seen by you, but not as you might find.

Oh, curse. You speak so loudly. yet so silently.

You walk so heavily, yet when they are around, you tread so lightly.

Make yourself known, for you are as silent as death and as loud as the first cry of life that I made as I entered this world.

You are the invisible curse, depression. The one who doesn't like to be alone.

I demand that you make yourself known.