The ones who cannot rest

The ones who cannot rest

What they think, 

doesn’t matter. 

They think they’ll speak,

and we’ll listen to their 

instructions and commands. 

No, we won’t. 

As we’re not “normal”

and we’re too weak 

and tired to have demands. 

We cry, while hugging our pillows,

in pain. 

They hear us but don’t care,

saying we’re not sane. 

Been up all night,

wanting to cut ourselves,

shred ourselves to pieces, start again;

How’d that help, should I just run away,

so I remain?

They call us fake, 

seeking attention. 

Saying we’re just teenagers 

and nothing bad has happened

in our lives, and that there are

no worries or tensions. 

Call us fake because we don’t share,

but ask yourselves,

Do you even care?

If I say, I want to die, will you cry? Don’t. 

Why pity us now? Don’t. 

Long time back, 

wanted someone to befriend us, 

as we were feeling low and down, 

thought we had hit rock bottom. 

But now, we cannot be healed, 

nor can we be fixed. 

We’re the ones who cannot rest,

and you call us “depressed”

~ishaan