Shell

I need to escape this shell.
Or else I'm going to burn in hell.
Please set me free.
Because this is not the real me.
I'm a puppet with tangled ropes.
I feel I've lost all my hopes.
They say it's only life.
Well tell that to my shiny knife.
I don't wanna use it.
I'm just digging a pit.
6 feel under.
This is my biggest blunder.
I can't stop crying.
This is a slow death I'm dying.
I'm inadequate and dumb.
Why have I gone numb?
This is wrong.
Do I have long?
I need a hero.
But I'm just a zero.
No more terror stricken nights.
This will end my pointless fights.

confusiondeathdepressionlifesadrhyme

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Dan Kearley

August 24, 2011 at 1:33 PM

Ok,it def sounds like you are suffering from depression....I hope it is just your poems?Sounds like alot of rage in your words.If you ever need some one to talk to, my ears are always open!Soup mail me.

Dan Kearley

August 24, 2011 at 2:11 PM

Let me enlighten your heart :-)

Maggie Mcdonald

August 24, 2011 at 2:04 PM

Yes I have depression. And I put a lot of my sadness into my writing. Well some of my best poems were written when the depression was worst.