Bruises

Short poem about depression.

What could you possibly see in me? I have nothing just my dysfunctional memory
I am fine.... Except this bruise on my heart, wanting to shatter, break itself apart.
My notions speak louder then words, an empty nest without its birds.
I hate for you to see me broken, so I break from within apart from tears and words outspoken.
Subtlety hints that Im not alright, yet you can't sense this you're up for a fight.
Countdown begins before this pressure within explodes, depression sending out hidden messages in codes.
Your rants and verbal riots do no good, I'm not listening I wish I could.
But I am caught up in my own mind, constantly searching not knowing what I must find.
I want to be happy I truly do, I want to be elated I want to be, well... just like you.