what tomorrow brings.

xvi. one day.

xvi. ONE DAY.

and my friends say that one day
i'll feel great,
today is just a phase,
you're only sad but listen
it's starting to get annoying.
why can't you be happy for just
one day?

and my mom says not to make her feel guilty
because she is trying her best.
she blames herself and she
suddenly feels more than just sad.
she makes you feel guilty instead.

and my dad,
he doesn't say anything.
he walks by and threatens
to kill himself one day
and i wish that i had the guts
to not only say
but to do the same thing.

and my doctors put labels
and suddenly i'm not april,
i'm not my own name.
i'm depression.
i'm anxiety.
i'm suicidal-
and i plead for them to one day say i'm fine,
but that day only feels a thousand times over
delayed.

and myself,
she says that there must be hope.
she searches for it in every corner of the world,
losing time even though it still feels frozen over.
and she picks up the phone,
she records herself for what was supposed to be
the last time but instead she keeps finding reasons
to stay alive,
even though her friends keep complaining
that she's too sad all the time,
and mom is blaming her for acting like a teenager
with out of control hormones; that she keeps having
to waste gas on hospital visits,
and dad keeps ignoring her,
saying nothing,
which hurts more than what his voice full of rage
has ever spitted at her,
and her doctors still never call her by her first name,
they only ask how well she's handling the medication
that's meant to control her suicidal thoughts but it's
all she ever thinks about.

and she stares at her reflection,
hypnotized by the image that isn't her,
repeating over and over and over again,

"maybe one day."