Depressedsouls Stories

Hers were poisoned tears. She had tasted wine from a bitter cup and it pained her from the inside, tore her soul apart and wrecked her whole being. She was a broken mender, so torn but a smile always hid her scars. Her scars were growing bigger and more noticeable and not even her fake smile could hide the glitters in her eyes. Those glassy eyes hid danger, an ticking bomb that could blow up any time. Her tears flowed from the inside, burning her, scorching her heart into ashes and now those tears wanted to seek revenge from the outside. Each teardrop meant bad luck. Here goes another comeback...a sweet revenge story about the journey of poisoned teardrops.

Is this life worth living?

(Just read it if you want to)

A Story Of The Deep Depression To My Deadly Self.