He sat alone,
Alone and at home,
Where his screams where silent,
But his mind was violent.
His insecurities hid deep inside,
And they did indeed eat him alive.
A tear rolled down his face,
And his heart began to race.
He took his blade and tore his skin,
Where his depression lied deep within.
This went on for days, months, years, and until he cried his very last tears.
He decided that he had enough,
The world around him was much too rough.
He took a gun to his head
Congratulations society,
He is dead.
YOU ARE READING
P O E M S | (discontinued)
PoetryEditing | Translating To German If you see any mistakes please inform me. Poems. That's it. Probably about depression. [Uncompleted] Cover by; @MysticalKittie
