Depression is a war that rages.
You either win, or you die trying.
You can't escape because it binds your soul.
The pain it causes is like a whip against your back.
The pain isn't as much physical as it is mental.
The razor is your weapon against the infection.
It is a weapon, but on your own skin.
You can't snap your fingers and make it disappear.
You can't run.
It follows.
You take medications, but where does it lead?
Some people think you belong in a mental hospital.
Others.. they just think you want attention.
Most don't even look at your past to see what got you to this point.
It leaves you friendless.
It makes you shutdown.
It leaves your smiles fake.
Even if the war doesn't **** you, it still makes you feel like you died.
Even if it doesn't **** you, you are never the same again.
It brings you the point of no return.