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I feel nothing but the empty;
surging, huge inside me,
filling all my spaces
and silencing all my songs.
This world always told me
I can never belong.
Always reaching to reshape me,
pressing me against the mold,
forcing out all the colors.
I look at the mirrored grey
and I imagine the rainbow
and all the ways I was painted
before you had your way.
Looking out this little window
upon the expansive grey,
I wonder: who stole your light
and made you believe in shadows?
All the thieving generations,
blindly, grabbing at what is gone,
hurting all their babies,
snuffing out the little lights,
too painful to look upon.
This angry, raging circle,
cutting as it spins.
But why not
turn the lights back on?

Shift the Focus

A year ago, a dear friend of mine lost his long battle with depression and died by suicide.

I always imagined that someone I loved committing suicide would make me angry. But of all the complex feelings that I have had, anger has never been amongst them. While I mourn and suffer because of his choice to end his life, I also understand why he chose to do so. His death is a testimony of our failure as a society. He spent most of his life dedicated to helping others with mental illness because he understood how deep those struggles effect you. Despite all his training and years of experience as a psychiatric nurse, he was not immune any more than anyone else.

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