There were some days I never wanted to get better
Never wanted to heal
Depression had grown to be comfortable
Obviously, I was far from happy
But that's where I found comfort
That sick, twisted, disgusting place
Where I cute and cried
Had become comfortable
Depression became all I knew
And I was afraid to be happy
I forgot what joy was
What would happen there?
It was like I had never been happy
Depression was comfortable
Joy was a fearful unknown
YOU ARE READING
poems of consciousness
PoetryMy streams of consciousness turned into poems. They aren't great. Just me trying to do something productive with what I write down. Trigger warning
