A Riot of Depression

Know how much
I’m not myself on the outside.
But she wouldn’t know that
Because she doesn’t care.

Her mind processes slowly,
Not gathering all the signs
Of how much it would mean to me.
Not gathering the way I feel.

She thinks I’ll survive
Knowing heroes are so close.
Close enough to merely touch.
But does she care? No.

Disappoint to riot in your mind.
Knowing that she calls them “stupid”
When all they did was help you
Through the worst times.

Thinking that I’ll get over it
She simply replies with a “no”
Even as she watches the tears
Flow down my cheeks.

This makes me wonder.
Will she ever understand?
Will she know how much torture
She’s put my through?