my depression poems

see

See this blade?
See my wrist?
See the scars?
They were made
See this blood?
Dripping down?
From the blade?
That's from you
Pain you caused
See my pills?
In my hand?
These are anti depression
Do they work?
What you think
If they did, I wouldn't be writing
Writing this stupid poem
I write as I pop the pills
The whole bottle
And takes a drink
Fall to the ground
Another less life in this worthless world