Why have I been chosen to lead this group of strong bloodied warriors?
The ones who grasp at their guns and turn the barrels towards the enemies in their heads?
Why was someone like I, a broken, porcelain damsel in distress chosen to carry the banner of bravery and shout "you all should be so proud"?
What type of leader am I, to be falling apart at the seams, to guide everyone to the light by my own blind direction?
The answer; I am strong. They are stronger.
We are in an invisible fight against the monarchy of our minds.
We are one.
United.
Strong.
YOU ARE READING
Depression Poems
PoetryThese are all my original poems and pictures. If you use them, please make sure to note that I was the one who wrote it instead of stealing it. They do have a trigger warning and thank you for reading.
