Roadkill

By Anonymous

A reflection on Major Depressive Disorder

You speed by and assume that I don’t see you
Because I am dead.
Roadkill.
Or so they call me.
As if the road had anything to do with it.
I thought that the road would be safer than the wilderness
That the crowd would be safer than the isolation.
Foolish.
Mankill is more like it.
But what’s in a name?
Besides the fact that it labels you
Besides the fact that it leaves a scar
Seering you like a third degree burn.
DSM-5.
Or so they call it.
You shriek in disgust as if I can’t hear you
Just because I am dead.
How can you so comfortably define what it means to be dead when you have never been here?
When you have never watched
When you have never listened to
The world go by around you
Without you.
You swerve around me as if I cannot feel you
Simply because I am dead.
Simply because my blood and my organs
My soul and my dignity
Are pulverized beneath your wheels.
You didn’t even look back.
You didn’t even think back.
Self preservation.
Or so they call it.
Due to the fear
Of getting too close
Of getting hit on this road
Of joining me here and becoming
Roadkill.

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