Hidden

There is beauty in the way he walks.
There is a lot to him that most don't think about.
The sensitivity of his words.
The heart on his sleeve.

There is a hidden intelligence;
No one seems to care because they tear him down regardless.
Which leaves and creates something deeper down inside.

The moment he steps through the apartment door, he falls.
Falls from graceful walking to a crumpled mess on the floor.
No one to save him or pick him up.

Depression claws its way up to tearful eyes.
Anxiety prickles underneath fair skin.
All is done, and thoughts end in the meltdown.

Stoic and strand after,
Steeled nerves and better for the fit.
He walks again in grace and beauty.
He walks again, renewed, confident.

Though with courage,
He still fears the depression and anxiety waiting.
Waiting to greet him by the next night's end.