Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Why did my day,
turn out blue too?
I feel sad,
I feel depressed,
It's like a burning pain in my chest.
My day won't get better,
my day won't get worse,
It actually feels like a depression curse.
I could be sleeping,
but I'd rather write a long, deep, depressed letter.
I won't say to who,
I won't say to you.
It's just a letter
saying it won't get better.
Writing my pain down on a piece of paper,
is actually much easier than to say "No, later."