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The brain is constantly rotating. My heart and soul is beaten down. My hands have turned as cold as stone. Caliust rough to touch. My feet carry my numb body from ditch to bed. My mouth wants nothing other then liquor to shut my head off at night. My eyes are constant sorrow hidden by a half smile. This is how I vent, so nobody would think I'm weak in the slightest sense. I pray my sons won't catch on how sad dad really is inside. I wonder if death would be peace, free me from an indifferent mind. I hold strong to be a hero in two little boys eyes. I turn my confessions of depression into awkward phrases. My mind keeps spinning the same old song. Anything I love god will take away. Been the only consistent in my life since the age of 14. Life has dealt me one hell of a hand to play with. I'm here fighting to feel normal inside. The story continues to write itself out. Keep reading on to the next page.