Depression

Mirror, mirror, look at the cuts on thy

wrists, for what's to be. It's hard to retreat

To what I can’t see? No, intimacy.

Why try? This bullet would be thy defeat.

Depression’s killing me? Continuously

Watching me sleep beside thy bed, takes

Dreams from inside thy head. Puts a gun against

thy head. He tells me to be quiet as he’s

squeezing the trigger. Yet it feels so fine.

Thee can not wait for that darkness to wake!

Thee know that hell’s to blame. It is not just thy.

But those who breath, just keeping enemies fake.

Keeping the enemies fake, stops the lies

From diving within thy life.