The summer drains the marrow
out of your bones, though maybe
it’s just the heat that leaves you
feeling hollow all the way to the soul.
Not all sadness is illness, but you
do not have the hundred bucks to
actually go to the doctor and find out.
This season and this generation
and these websites that you visit
are talking about depression like
it’s a song everybody knows –
that might be true, but it’s also
not the kind of normal you want.
Feeling sad and lost and anxious
shouldn’t be the bright new trend.
This makes you sicker than all else.
It might be just a bad day, you know?
It might be that getting out of bed
would do you more good than poetry
and the wallowing that follows.
Why keep humming melodies that
will have you crying through the night
when the season will end, someday?
But it feels eternal now, a warmth
that sticks to the base of your neck
and it writes its lyrics against what
is still fragile in this body you grew.
So go take a shower. Wash away
the surface of the hurt, even if it has
already burned deeper into your skin.
Not all sadness begins as illness;
It might be up to you to choose when
you’re done mouthing along to these
words, no matter how catchy they are.