Where Depression Thrives

A collection of letters to myself that came from the lonliest nights. With a tear stained face and blood stained wrist, the poems remind me my past was real. I overcame something that seemed completely impossible at the time.
And here they are. My worst nights crammed in a book of old cigarette boxes held together by tears, written with blood on unused razor blades. My past, me emotions, and my path to recovery.

Ask if you wish to use them, copyright is mine. (unless stated otherwise.)