you're this shadow figure,
the monster under my bed,
the knife within my hand,
the rope wrapped around my
neck. but you're not only my
suicidal moments. you're
my tired moments when my
mom calls me down for dinner
my empty hollow body does
not have the effort to even push
itself up when I need to, I fall
back down. the dark corners of
my room you stand, watching me
you don't have a face, but you
have a name. you whispered it
in my ear, it was so pretty but
so very disappointing. "depression"
you spoke as if you felt like you
were going to fall but the same
time, you started to choke me
up. 5 years later, I lay down in my
clothes for the next 5 weeks,
because I couldn't help the
fact but to notice that I'm so
numbed, so distant, nobody comes
to check on me anymore. now
I'm depression's body to use,
and I'm locked inside a cage
of my own body.
YOU ARE READING
depression engulfing itself.
Poesieon a mushed up level of poetry that has been written with spewing venom of what was once a glass cup has now become a shattered heart that was always dwelling on the past, it has now broken few and become even worse in manners of mentality. ; all r...
