Fact: Depression makes me feel invisible.

This will probably make it even harder to understand.

Have I ever been present?
Or am I fading like the moon, a crescent in the sky?
Depression and depressant alike get rid of ebullience.

As I emerge an adolescent-
One who seeks to augment and reinvent her intent to repent-
My mind is not quiescent.

The bees of thought are buzzing and incessant
Their resent extended and outspent
Until all but the loneliest percent are stinging
Bringing me their discontent in the form of little needles in my brain.

I cannot see, the incandescent
light is blinding and fluorescent
And my olfactory cemented shut
With the scent of lament and tears.
This segment torments my indentured senses.

Ideas of loneliness tumescent
Fermenting to the exent of my patience
About myself, so obsolescent.
I am not effervescent, I cannot prevent the lack of luminescence in my soul.

But then just like the moon, convalescent,
I will have an incipient, a rebirth, efflorescence will be my middle name.
A new moon of my life where I will be iridescent, like a shining disc in the sky.

Sage Francis inspires me.

Rhymes are fun, but with meaning, they can be thought-provoking.