Happiness is like a summer morning.
The birds are chirping.
The flowers are blooming.
The sky is that nice shade of blue with white clouds that just look like soft pillows.
Okay, now keep that image in your head.
Now imagine that summer morning slowly converting.
It is now an autumn morning.
Less birds are chirping.
The flowers slowly die.
The sky just seems darker.
Now let's make our way into winter.
No birds chirp anymore.
The flowers are all dead.
Everything is cold and bitter.
That's what depression is.
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A Poem for the Judged
Poetrya collection of poems about the feelings of people in our society who are judged.
