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Healing | Poetry | Mental Health
The Pretty Face of Depression as I Know It
Poetry
“Depression is being colorblind but constantly told how colorful the word is”
— Atticus Poetry
Pretty, but is it?
On the outside, maybe.
An elaborate and fascinating concealer,
An alluring glitter.
Beneath,
My smile is lopsided.
Lipstick I wear to brighten my dull face.
Mascara,
Widens eyes that beg to disappear into their sockets,
Perhaps washed out by tears,
But disguised by a sexy eye mask.
All covered up but still feels bare,
Vulnerable.
A façade of beauty.
It feels like a rollercoaster —
I’m up, and I’m down.
For a moment,
I’m on a high, cruising in utopia,
Suddenly, without warning, the ride descends.
Caught off-guard,
I plunge down with a thud,
And before I know it, I’m face down.
And it can stay down there or come back up right away.