D E N Y, A L L.
It begins if depression isn’t cruel,
Or if anxiety simmers like a crystal.
Xanax gleams with false thrill,
As cliffs lose their chill. The edge is
Closer than ever — to breathe in the
Wind’s whispers and hints at denial.
My brother, you’re unwell.
Please, talk to someone —
If not them, then at least
Walk with me. I’ll show
You people who speak of truth.
I’ll deny you until you vanish,
Send letters as souvenirs,
Ready-made to be read, with
Gruelling details being said.
Hey, I’m here to help.
I don’t wish to see you sin
And struggle whilst in hell.
Take my hand and embrace
The small wins and angels.
I won’t do it! Not until you
Give up. Until you’re done
With me, or have had enough.
I’m treacherous in behaviour,
Where despair is my saviour,
And friends pose as traitors.
Listen support is on its way.
I promise there is a person
Willing to understand what
You felt. But now as you’re
Falling apart, Hold on —
Don’t let go of yourself.
