When I feel depressed I write,
It's like writing my own tears,
I can't cry, not anymore,
It's not because of weakness,
Its hard to explain,
Something holding it back,
Laying in bed and thinking of what can I do,
What's the cure?
Speak to whom?
When you can't understand yourself,
I don't know what I want,
But for sure I know one thing,
I don't want pain,
Or just give me more it doesn't matter,
Pain doesn't hurt anymore,
It have became part of me...
Sure. I don't believe everyone is happy,
I know deep inside everyone has something,
But others just like me have too much extra,
It's not sensitivity,
We are not happy with what depression is,
Death slowly approaches,
And than walks away,
And you never know when it'll come back,
It leads you to anxiety,
And to a never ending trail..
