Depression eats you and guts you;
You feel nothing but it leaves you with bruises;
You leave scars slitting your paper thin skin trying to feel something but all you feel is the same;
You say you're fine but inside you are filled with nothing but shame;
Everyday you look at yourself and ask is today the day;
But when people ask you about your day you always respond with it was okay;
You never were okay and you knew it, so one day you said '***** it' and cried;
That night you swallowed the pills hoping you would have just died

Me And The Moonless Night
I sit alone watching the moonless night drift by waiting for it to come; I wait and wait but when it comes I am a saddening piece of depression; I wanna go home but I am just trapped in my mind trying to find an exit that doesn't exist; I spend my days and nights saying "Oh I'm fine" but really I am dying inside;People pass by asking me my story I make one up on the spot never telling them about me and my moonless nights.

I live in a village not to far from a town where a Dreamweaver dances gleam full in the night's sky;
She runs with her violet flute bringing the dream she had to create;
They only ever followed her as she could never reach them;
She delivered them to people with better more beautiful prances;
If reached for by her they would flee;
The Dreamweaver did weep wanting to follow her dreams;
All she really ever did say was "Why?";
When she wept you could tell that she had given one away;
She had an idea so they couldn't get away to jump down a well;
She danced and played her violet flute down a small well in her town the dreams she wish she could keep following her down all the way; Once there she tries to grab one but all it did was become a wisp of her dream a dream that the Dreamweaver weeped.

The birds that sang to make the day awake;
Have spread their wings and flew away hurridly;
And the sun that rose to meet the dawn has truly forlorn the sight of something;
Hath saw landscapes polluted with the blood of these men that are now gone for good;
At this moment the moon is shining upon the barrens;
Blood glares from the grassy fields we fight on;
But now all is quiet on the western front