The lost girl
Depression is a silent attacker. You don't hear the voice screaming kill yourselves when others are around. You don't feel the pain of the past heartbreaks until you're alone and no one is stopping you from listening to that voice. Kill your self. Kill your self. As it get louder and louder. kill your self. As you replay reasons why this life isn't worth living. Kill your self as she's replying her traumas. Kill your self... and she's gone.
Asking for help is hard to do...
If stress was a color I'd wear it every day.
If I could go back in time I'd paint my eyelids with that shade and wear my pain in a more noticeable way.
I'd dip my body in that color and go to all the places I've been.
I wouldn't need to ask for help. you would see it on my numb face with bags as big as Walmart.
Would you help the dead girl walking?
