depression · Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · mental health · Poetry · prose · Uncategorized

Heads Up

These wounds they carry are open and exposed,
revealed to whoever wants to see.
They no longer try to conceal them,43570061272f7c74582022f963ed47bd
for they hold stories;
Stories of pain, agony, survival, and revival.
They are open, overborne by the weight of what they hold.
The contents seep out, mingling;
mingling with the happiness of the world,
mingling with our joy.
Reminding, teaching, reminiscing
that this too happens,
this too can happen anywhere, anytime,
to whomever it wants.
Skin trying to heal peels away once again,
disclosing what it holds,
to make us aware,
that joy doesn’t always last forever.
Sometimes joy leaves and never comes back,
sometimes joy can escape and we don’t.
These wounds sit on their bare bodies for us,
to make us aware,
that happiness can quickly turn into imagination;
to make us aware and to echo beware.
For when they were like us: free,
the future did not give them a heads up,
like they sit today with all these wounds, to give us one.

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