Depressed is the new black

Dare I look at myself in the glass to view, what a mess I have turned into? I look and see a figure that could be me, and I must confess that down and depressed fits me best. Dark and alone in this big cold home, that was once my castle,tall and full of laughter. After some time it was no long sublime and depression became my captor. He grabbed me up and my crown fell to the ground, then without my permission my castle became my prison. No matter what people do or say I cannot seem to get away. Encouraging words and genuine love is out there but, mean, twisted, harsh words is all I hear in my mind. I am afraid that some day the sadness wont leave and I will never return to me. Instead of looking for help, I sit alone with myself. Weak and frail, ugly and vile, worthless and broken, thoughts that I start to believe in. There was once happiness and confidence, now replaced with hate and loneliness. Eventually the depression cycle will end and I will return to me again.

Art aspects

Will She, that's struggling with schizophrenia and her art, which she see's as the only way into her heart, ever be herd or understood by thous deemed by society as normal that has condemned her or us or me or we as okay to be free?

Instead of joked about or looked at in a different aspect like some dumb bloke.

There IS power and beauty behind my art. If you can't see it you are simply blind to genius, abstract, innovative, dreams.