My mind has waged war on me.
Where used to be creativity
Now lies a battlefield, dirty,
Blood soaked for eternity,
Bodies of parts of my personality
Lie dead on the ground: positivity,
Inspiration, articulacy
Are cold and lifeless inside of me
Parts of me are dying and no one sees,
I guess that's what happens with puberty.
It is unnoticed that I'm dying
Instead people think I'm flying
Through teen years and trying
To be emo at the same time. Crying
Is uncommon as I put on a brave face,
Load my gun and look about the place
Depression is an evil race
Of monsters living in my disgrace.
24/04/2017
C.J.
