Concrete sky (a short poem)

Sidewalk Sky

My depression is a grey sky, except it's not it's more like a sidewalk but in my mind it is a grey sky. Even though it is cold and unmoving like laying in bed during winter it is the grey sky. Even when I hit it it hurts me more then itself
but I hit til my knuckles bleed and I'm on the edge of sanity, the edge of that sidewalk, that sky. And then I jump, and everytime I jump It feels like I'm flying for a split second and sometimes that second takes days to pass but when it does I'm left on the sidewalk again but to me it still looks like the sky. Because when I jumped I flew and when I flew I was free and when I was free I lived. So I jump again and again and again. Now I lay sprawled our bloody nose, bloody knuckles, weak but I still believe I can fly. So I jump one last time and I hit the ground one last time until I realized that the sky wasn't grey, it was blue and big and beautiful and I had been flying the wrong way all along. So I looked up instead of down and I jumped. And for a split second I could fly, Because when I jumped I flew and when I flew I was free and when I was free I lived. but this time I didn't crash down on the concrete, I landed on my feet and that grey sky became just concrete.