The Mind of Depression
Sick of the sadness
Tired from the pain
I got nothing to lose
Yet nothing to gain
In a world full of people
I feel so alone
They say they love me
But they don't see what their actions have shown
My body is numb
I don't feel anything anymore
It's like I'm locked in an empty room
No key to the door
Imprisoned, trapped, no way out of my head
Sometimes I wonder if I'd be better off dead
There is no reason to live
I've given everything I had to give
I am lost with no direction
I told myself I wouldn't let it win
But deep down I know it's won
What makes me feel this way?
Is it Depression? Anxiety? Or just pure self hate?
There's no time to fix it; No time to wait
I've created my own hell and this is my fate
Time ran out a while ago
My hands have been grasping my last piece of hope
But these hands they're tired, they can't hold on
anymore
It's time to let go; to declare truce on this war
These demons inside of me shout at their victory
I will no longer be a part of what is called society
I have no choice, for I am powerless to my anxiety
An empty, dull, emotionless shell
Until I bid farewell to this place I call HELL
Copyright © Chelsea Simpson | Year Posted 2017
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