Depression is the color of the darkest night sky that surrounds the rural small town.
It sounds like a dead man speaking.
And tastes like the bitterest lemon out there.
It smells like fresh air, never found, never touched, completely alone.
It looks like black smoke from a fire floating up into the air, fading away to nothing.
Depression makes you feel unloved, and alone.
Depression is as red as blood when it hits the air.
It sounds like voices mocking you.
And tastes like a musky warm old Budweiser.
It smells like a lonely girl crying in a dark corner.
Depression makes you feel like a tornado swarming through destroying whatever comes in its way.
Depression is the color of Daddy’s bright blue eyes.
It sounds like a soft sigh.
And tastes like charcoal.
It smells like Irish spring soap.
It looks like an isolated man crying alone in his jail cell.
Depression makes you feel weak in the knees, helpless, and un-willful.
Depression is when your alive but not living. It’s when you’re simply alone. You either feel pain, or close to nothing.