Iceberg

Sometimes all I can do

is share just the tip of the iceberg

of what makes me depressed.

It’s usually som superficial reason,

I know.

But I can’t find the words to share

about the tons of heavy ice

beneath the surface

that actually make me want to die.

So no one really understands

what the things weighing me down are.

They just see the silly, stupid things

that set me off on a plunge

and think I’m not worthy of help

or love

or attention

because why would sleeping in

be enough reason to kill yourself?

Nobody cares about that.

So no one hears about all the things that came after

like the dreams

or the self-destructive thoughts

or bringing my worth down.

Or feeling like a failure.

Because why would anyone

understand that all these things

are just a result of sleeping late.