I am inconsequential.
Just a waste of space
Controlled by society.
Forced to keep up with the pace.
I am counterproductive.
Not worthy of living.
Can't do anything productive,
As depression deprives me of my life.
Now emotionless,
Or so I seemed..
Falling in a pit that is bottomless.
My demons now redeemed.
Feeling as if I was free.
Maybe finally normal.
But it was all too good to be.
My thoughts no longer formal.
As the scars fade,
I know I'm the one to blame.
Just another thinking they could hide behind a blade.
I leave, but not the same way I came
