I've gone home a long time ago. I learned to deal with my problems until you came. You made everything hard like an algebra equation. I was gone. Happy. Why can't I just lay here and finally be comfortable? Your excuses mean nothing to me at the moment. If you can't see, I'm slowly dying and my heart is burning away. The numbness inside is invading, but I'm not gone..why? I would like to disappear and never be seen again. The dark watches me more than usual, and I can feel it coming closer. Eventually I'll be covered and won't be the same. I'm so sorry you have to see this, honey, please leave. I don't want you to feel the need to save this mess that has been here before. It was gone, and you think it still is. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I don't want you to hate me, but I'm better off gone at the moment.
YOU ARE READING
Your Depression is Showing
PoetryThis is just some short things I write about. Some may be about me, but some may not. I hope you don't get depressed while reading this. = Don't copy any of the stories that are presented in this book. Thank you.
