Semicolon Generation

See I belong to the semicolon generation,

A generation who bear the scars of gunfire that ricochets off of the walls of their armour,

You see we aren't battling foreign forces,

But rather the ever present black dog that lurks in the shadows of our mind,

And unlike the common cold there is no cure,

Instead our choices are therapy or pill pushing doctors on behalf of pharmecutical companies,

I was stood on the edge when I opted for the anti-depressants,

Looking back I had no choice,

For years I concealed my scars but the fact of the matter is I no longer want that life,

It is estimated that around one million Australians suffer from depression,

And yet... And yet we pretend it doesn't exist,

We pretend it is a phase,

And yet I'm bound to turn on the news to yet another kid at the end of a rope or with a river of blood coursing from their veins,

And all you have to say is "It's going to be ok",

Our brothers and sisters deserve better,

They deserve better than mind numbing, anxiety inducing medications,

They deserve better than a life spent behind closed doors being ignored,

If you agree with me raise your hands to the ceiling,

And just like paintbrushes let your fingertips paint the sky,

In hues of green and gold,

Yellow and orange,

Brighten this world for those who only see in black, white and grey,

Because... Because life is beautiful,

Brighter days will not cure us,

Nor will they eradicate the twisted thoughts that plague our nights and days,

But it will serve as a patchwork,

A patchwork to encase just as surely as chainmail our delicate hearts,

Your love will show those of us who suffer from depression that life is worth living,

If only for a minute more.