People think,
Depression is the feeling of constant saddness,
And for some, that may be true,
But depression, for me,
Is the feeling of constant numbness,
The endless non-feeling vortex,
That consumes every inch of my body.
People think,
Cutting is a cry for help,
And for some, that may be true,
But cutting, for me,
Is a sliver of feeling,
In my endless vortex.
People think,
They know everything,
But to be painfully honest,
People know nothing.
People know nothing at all.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe it Will End
PoesiaWARNING TRIGGER Just a collection of poems that are written about self harm and depression. All poems written by me unless said otherwise Cover by lilydawnxx
