Depression isn’t obvious,
    It isn’t made for the audience

He is shaking, the blade TrEmBLinG
    Close in hand
The nightmares never left him
  Gray figures claw his skin
      He is filled to the brim

Depression isn’t obvious,
    It’s a form of insomnia
But of the soul

She is crying,
    Screaming in her pillow
How could she?
Her hair was tangled, knotted.
    Mascara was stained to the sheets

Depression isn’t obvious.
    It’s the fear of liquid oblivion