It's a tangled mess inside my head.
Some days I can just stay in bed,
and no-one knows or cares at all.
I could be alive. I could be dead.
The world goes on: all well and good.
I might move a muscle, if I could -
but depression brings paralysis.
I need to move. I know I should.
I can't explain how I feel inside,
or why I stay in bed and hide -
but, believe me, no-one would choose this "life".
So many pointless tears, I've cried -
and still you seriously believe
my depression to be
a so-called "lifestyle choice"?