Dark soul poetry

Depression

Felling depressed and worthless.

No one to care if I live or die.

No one is there to call me if I am doing alright.

I stare into this mirror...who is this man I see?

My skin is bruised...my heart races inside of my chest because of the pills I swallowed to ease the pain.

I hold the cold gun in my hands, as I cock the trigger back.

Looking down into a barrel, my fingers tremble.

I start to sweat as I think about what I'm about to do.

I'm wishing this will make the pain all go away.

So I say to myself ........next time.....next time

I drop the gun on the wood floor as tears start coming down my face.

I scream why god why me!!