It's stuck.
Stuck inside my head.
I'm scared and it won't leave. I'm fearing my own life at this point, terrified of what consequences it will throw at me- for at any moment I could be thrown into the sea and washed up on a land of no desire. A land where even I could never turn back.
Get out. Please get out before I do something I regret. Get out. It's not fair that you're here at this time. Get out.
I can't breathe.
G e t out.
I don't know what to do at this rate.
Get out.
But even if I say that, you whisper softly you'll always be by my side. Watching me from the shadows and ruining everything piece by piece. Knocking down every tower I had built up.
Get out.
Please, it's all I need.
Get out.
I just wanna be happy again. I wanna experience the sun hitting my face as a smile spreads across the horizon showing me the optimism I've been craving.
It won't get out.
I don't know if it ever will.
If it won't get out.
I might have to get out of this body.
Who knows.
YOU ARE READING
Your Depression is Showing
PoetryThis is just some short things I write about. Some may be about me, but some may not. I hope you don't get depressed while reading this. = Don't copy any of the stories that are presented in this book. Thank you.
