I've always like novels. With all of their princes and super-star models. Some books are tattered with broken seams while others are bright, shiny, and clean.
I am my own book, my own story within. But I remain unsure whether I'm hero or villain. I have a simple cover, undamaged at first view although it has it has scars that are seen by few.
My story is simple from beggining to end, even though ive got a few torn pages on the mend.
I'm absolutely filled with smudges and stains, showing the moments in my life completely smattered in pain.
No I am not clean, nor beautiful or pristine. I am an antique, fragile and broken. With a boring, shy cover. Not extremely outspoken.
So, in short, I'm not an adventure. Nor a romance, a mystery, or an adrenaline quencher. I remain a simple passage of text, hard to read and with a broken seam.
YOU ARE READING
Depression Poetry
Poetry*WARNING POSSIBLY TRIGGERING* This is nothing more than some poetry I've written about/for/to deal with depression. Hatred and rude comments won't be tolerated. If anyone needs someone to message about a problem of any kind I want you to know that I...