The Enemy
Who could ever love
a girl with depression?
Who would she let
kiss her scars away?
Who could sympathize
with the solemn confession
that her life's a mess
and everything gone to waste?
I've seen a billion people
who don't need to hide.
They're so confident,
bright and unafraid.
I wish I could open up
and let people see inside.
But I'm not courageous,
willing or that brave.
I fear the enemy
whose eyes stare so deep.
The enemy is trusting you
because humans go astray.
The only one I trust
is God in whom I believe.
And still I'm imperfect,
and the anxiety won't go away.
