I feel like crying
All the time
I'm constantly drowning
In my own mind
My vision is blurred
My skin is stained
From blood from using that damn blade
But whats wrong
Is not the
Crying
or the
Drowning
or the
Blurred vison
or the
Blood
It's the fact that I can
No longer feel
It's all just too surreal
It's the fact that I am
N-O-T
Fine
And I probably never will be again
YOU ARE READING
Am I Good Enough Now?
PoetryDepression really sucks, and believe me I would know. So these are the poems of what goes on in my mind, even if I don't say them out loud. Sorry if you don't like them. *Trigger warning*
