tw: cutting, depression, self harm
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Nothing matters.
Why do I try so hard when it's so fruitless?
My life's in tatters.
I am useless.
My desire is to get lost
To be able to wander in a crowd and not find myself
But at what cost?
I would be far more comfortable with no sense of self
The noises rush through my mind
As I crave that drink or blade
All I need is to recline
And give the devil a nice trade
I'm told to find the root of my depression
But how do I escape it?
All I can hear is blood dripping in rapid succession
As the blood and tears flow, I sit.
And sit.
And I stay sitting, as I realize that I am the root of my depression.
How do you fix yourself?
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I'M POSTING WITHOUT EDITING BECAUSE I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT SO SORRY IF IT SUCKS
YOU ARE READING
I am a Sucker for Pretty Words Masking Dark Thoughts
PoetryI occasionally write super depressing poetry/ snafus of writing. I honestly don't follow any specific type (rhyme schemes, etc.) because I prefer them to be fluid. The one thing is, it's generally an unreliable narrator.
