I sit apon your table,
I hide in you bathroom closet,
I float in your school bag,
You rescue me,
When your alone,
Those clear trails,
Their always around,
Whenever i am out,
I help you make more trails,
But of crimson red,
I wonder if i really should,
Be your trusty razor blade.
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Anxiety Wants To Be Depression
PoetryYou know those things you hear or maybe the things you think, Well those things have joined together, They wanted to be clear, Can you deal with this? They know u can't. Anxiety wants to be Depression don't you think? Fight it, But how, Fight it no...
