Poem:

if we are depressed, does that make us less human?
our faces change with disgust toward ourselves
when our negativity is in the air,
when our crippling negativity cannot be harnessed,
we vilify and shame the human who lives in despair.

we act toward ourselves as if our faces are disfigured,
disfigured with too many excuses and far-ended complaints.
we act as if we need to change to be approachable
to feign our negative feelings with positive ones.
but if faking it until we make it is true,
how come many of us do not make it?

why should we compromise our pain
for a falsehood of optimism, with a self-imposing will to fake it?
if we do not fake it, we look at ourselves with disdain.
we are looked down upon with a shame,
that makes us feel worse, increases our pains.

why should we feel bad
for fighting what corrodes our beautiful minds?
why do we shame ourselves
for being so-called "negative",
stigmatizing our intrinsic greatness,
we leave ourselves confined

why do we dismiss one another,
acting as if our mental illnesses are
inherent malformations of our design?
why, when it is in our human nature to
lament, wane, and repine?