Bad Day

Sometimes it is all just too much and we need someone to just sit and understand how a bad day feels with depression.

My chair’s too hard,

My back’s too sore,

My teeth are hurting

More than before.

The light’s too bright,

The sky’s too dim.

The room’s too quiet,

But I can’t hear for the din.

My head won’t shut up,

The voices are jumbled,

And in the corner

My sanity is huddled.

My clients are fighting,

At least in my head,

And the room they are in

Is now painted red.

Now tell me again,

How depression isn’t real,

How anxiety is just nerves,

That we all get to feel.

I wish I could show you

Inside my struggling brain,

See for yourself

The battle and the pain.

Maybe then,

Your words would be kinder,

Your actions supportive

Without constant reminder.

Maybe then,

The world would be more thoughtful

And my bad days

Would be less awful.