The heart of a poet

Escape

Sometimes you just wants to stab a knife through your chest
Or take a big old butcher knife and slice at your wrists
Because physical pain is easier
Or at least so it seems
But you see it's an addiction
And once you start you never want to stop
But you do, and every now and then you meet again just for a little while
I mean it's better than those things you dread
And it's funny when you come to realizations
Realizations that you should've know a long time ago
Like how, no matter how many dream catchers that you've got yourself surrounded in
It doesn't change a thing, because sadly its not just a bad dream
It's just how your life is
And I guess that's why when depressed you always sleep
Because you're trying to escape your own realities
Trying to prevent self catastrophes
But where is this happy world you speak of?
Where can you find relief like you've dreamed of?
Where's this escape that you've made up?