So if you even read this far great job becasuse i am fucking done
God as I write this poetry my emotions grow and I want to fucking die
More and more over and over, god damn this fine line
From each time I trip on a thin line, and I have slept on the floor
Each time I was poor, broke and barely coulf afford the the posibility to get through a door
But what I've been trying to say is what's my purpose?
Please tell me, I need a reason to not want to keep on harming myself
That's what I may say any day, but I feel crazy,
Am I nuts? No? I must be insane!
This depression's just getting the best of me,
Can't eat nor sleep
If I do I am greeted by demons
Can hardly even write this
Maybe it's the girl that I'd tie a rope for, I'd take a bullet, catch a grenade no matter how corny it sounds,
But I am getting the gun instead maybe I can kill myself in her lap
Bleed out in her arms, just try to convice myself that she loves me
That she would hold me
That even if she's not really meaning it, I can tell myself that
The way my mood swings got me wanting to tie the chains from the around my neck
Fuck it I'd rather put that gun to my temple as yet I may have told her this,
I'd do anything for you, to show that I loved you, now here is the proof
YOU ARE READING
Depressing Rounds
PoetryWell as it seems life is a terrible burden yet it also is a great present. In Depressing Rounds I tried to encap life moments (good and... mostly bad) into a series of poems. When I first started writing this I intended to just make a series of Depr...
