Weeds

A wise person once said,
That depression doesn't come from weakness,
It comes from being strong, for too long.

Strength.

Some people snap and break,
Others bend, with the pain they've had
For so long in their aching hearts.

Apathy

Some people have too much,
And some, not enough.

...

A great band once wrote a great song,
And IN those lyrics, there held these words--
"Plant your hopes with good seed
Don't cover yourself with thistle and weed."

What have you now?
What are the plants around you?
On you?
In you?
I tell you that weeds,
Weeds can look like flowers; good seed
Dandy lions and their little yellow starts.

I'm not a great thinker, and despite what some say, I'm not particularly smart
Or wise
But I see those children,
The ones in the back, the ones alone
I see them, and I see the others who see them
Yet I know
WE DO NOTHING
As their own insecurities,
Their own fears,
Depressions
Loneliness
Eat them slowly, slowly wither them away.
The weeds spring up
Constricting their hearts,
Choking, killing it.
Their sickness, their thin-ness
They slowly, slowly
DIE

While we watch them.

They try to hide, deny.

There are no weeds,
There never were...

But I know better
I see that hidden pain
Those unshod--and shed--tears,
That sorrow that consumes
Every waking thought
Every living dream
The Depression that kills
STILL lives
STILL thrives
In schools, communities of hurt
In houses and buildings and hospitals and jobs
The depression!

Casting its long dark shadow over the nation

The depression that blinds!
OPEN your eyes!

Gaze upon the children choked by weeds,

Help them plant, those good seeds
Give kindness

And save a life.