People ask why.
It's not anything new.
But there's something about that word
That brings a feeling of dread.
Why is there scars all over you?
Why do you never wear shorts?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
I just don't get it.
Why this?
Why that?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Because....
Well I'd tell you.
But you'd never understand.
So let me ask you for a change.
Why does it matter?
You don't care
No one does
Why must you ask?
And...
Why are you happy?
Tell
Me
Your
Secret.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the Suicidal
PoetryPoems I've written, from the point of view of someone facing depression, anxiety, etc.
