Depression is a thing with flowers
Thorns scraping the soul
Bleeding out one’s innermost turmoil
For all the world to see
We cut our thorns
Painful pieces of ourselves
To gift our roses to another
Handing them our beauty
We live lost in our hues of grey

It is difficult to exist
In a world as dark as this,
But the sun rises each day, regardless.

#SunshineInSix
Photo and poem by me! :)