Having both anxiety and depression is a living hell
Because you want to die, but are afraid of dying
And there is no one you can ever tell
That will understand
There is no such thing as a "helping hand"
And you aren't necessarily afraid of death itself
But of the consequences that come from dying
So you wing it, maybe something will come from being careless with your health
You tell yourself— there is no point in crying
But you would be lying
If you said your eyes weren't cowards that watered on command
Are you beginning to understand
There is no hope for you
There is nothing you can do
What can a god damn doctor prescribe
All those pills do is turn you into a walking corpse
Where insomnia tries to bribe
And you give in because you're lonely
Saying, "I could do with some company."
But insomnia will only
Ever be there to suck your energy dry
Kissing your will to live goodbye
And you are so sleep deprived
Is this what it feels like to survive?
Because if that's the case,
What's the use in being alive?
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Hurt
PuisiExcerpts ~~ Numbness creeps into the very veins that refuse to speak for me And yet they still bleed With every puncture Every laceration Everything that is ever forged out of hiding abiding by crippling sensations ~~ Perpetual sadness It hurts And...
