Depression Is My Kryptonite

Can't

Can't breathe.
Can't cry.
Can't stay still.
Feeling trapped, yet so lonely.
Listening.
I should stop listening.
Hiding.
I can never stop hiding.
Shaking.
Always shaking.
Rhythmic ticking.
A symphony of issues.
A melody of thoughts.
Why can't I stop the thoughts?
It's suffocating.
Acting like locking myself in the bathroom is ever going to help.
The floor is nice though.
I can't.
I don't know what I can't do.
I just know that I can't.
Maybe everything, maybe nothing.
I have no clue.
The music is muffeling the sounds, but not enough.
I can lock them away, but that's not going to stop them from banging and yelling through the door.
I wish I was soundproof.
I wish I could stop talking.
Cut out my vocal chords.
Maybe then I wouldn't bother so much.
But I don't know.
I don't know what's going on.
Why is it so hot.
It burns from the inside out.
Why are they so loud?
Just cut it out.
No, don't cut me.
I can feel them cutting me.
I can't keep doing this.
I'm going to break again.