Nobody cares about me. People can fix my physical injuries but never the mental or emotioal ones. Everyday, I carry scars that may never heal, scars that hurt deep within, scars that the People created. I'm drowning in an ocean and there's no escape, no hope, no air yet I never die. Everyday the cycle continues until the hand of death saves me from the pain, the drowning. The people will play tricks on me, they make you think they care but in reality it's the exact opposite. I don't know when the people will understand my suffering but the hand that will set our souls free will take us any day now, any day now.
YOU ARE READING
depressed poem
PoetryLife is filled of hatred, disgust, and judgement. Is it worth living?
