I don't even care anymore if you tore down this door, walked up to me and pulled me closer to your chest. Where I could hear that unsteady rhythm drumming along and I would sing you a song. Because you're not the only one tired of hiding, sitting and waiting beside me. Tired of people telling you to hold on because you feel it almost isn't worth it anymore. I know that this contradicts what I say, but listen to me anyway. Don't give up even though you feel that you've had enough. Use that hidden strength, enchant that armor and sharpen that blade even though you fear that you won't make it any farther. Those beasts can't touch you, you can become a weapon of mass destruction if you wish. Just give that magic wand a little swish. My tales have turned into fantasies, but they make more sense to me.
YOU ARE READING
Depression Is My Kryptonite
ПоэзияA jumble of extremely depressing poems written by me. And ramblings that feature mood swings every other second. Oh well.
