Deadly
People think its sadness. But truly its pain worth so much more. Your heart is hollow, denial and lies align the walls of your soul like glue trying to hold it in place. A deafening silence so rich and long, it chokes you to a point where you break. It blares in your ears like sirens, a reminder that chaos outside your body exists by the havoc it wrecks. It is a bone crushing pain that tears your insides until all that you are is an evanescence.
Its emotions growing at a rate faster than lightning, pulsing and striking, leaving a trail of despair and destruction. Its emptiness, yes, but at the same time, its a tidal wave growing, reaping everything in its way, collecting never ending sensations.
There is agony, deadly enough to poison you with thoughts of denial. You blame yourself to a point where you are so disgusted to look in the mirror, disgusted with the knowledge of who you are on the inside. There is a point where you look in the mirror and see nothing, just a stranger with dark eyes and the soul of a culprit.
Depression is death. Death rooted inside your body rocking your core to a point where you aren't sure what is still anymore, what even is living?
Depression is me.
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The Lace Age | ongoing.
Poetry"My head is full of thorns too harmful to leave unattended. " A collection of poems, short stories and free speeches. Copyright Ariana Miriam.
