Last Night

Missionary

I write depressing shit all over the page,
It's my proof to the world that I'm not okay.
I'm losing my sanity day by day.
If I may,
Keep your worries at bay.
Hey!
Get up and go.
Get ready to show.
You don't have to be okay to make a difference in the world.
I'm functioning with depression and people keep messing.
They trigger me hard and they aren't ever stressing.
I'm guessing it's okay because one day they'll see,
Everything we say and do affects each one of us including me.
My life is a bad story just waiting to end,
They throw stones at my heart and rocks at my head.
Sticks and stone may break my bones but words can always kill me.
I've changed the saying, yes, I have.
People never thrill me.
I try to make this school appropriate but those words always fail me.
I conform to what they say and in this society lying's the way.
I keep repeating certain words,
Yet I'm still afraid to be heard.
They'll throw the stones harder and more and more.
Still, some will say that I'm a bore.
But I'm a missionary to spread the word of the broken and unheard.
I'm called in heart and in soul never to part and never to fall.
Even if I've lied about the truth at all.
And not gone into the darkness that I hide.
I can speak it out, it won't stop my stride.
But when I take my final breath,
I'll know that I've accomplished nothing still.
That's okay I've spread the word.
The next generation is still assured.