My words are never complete,
poems always half finished.
I’ve deleted more then I’ve saved.
When I post my poems they’re never quite finished.

My mind is a mess,
My hopes never realized.
My dreams left unaccomplished.
When I speak to you my words are always half hearted and half complete.

I gave birth to you in the darkest times, nurtured you in the depth of my broken heart.
You’re the depression I created.
the Pain I can’t run away from.
When i thought I was free, you were hiding behind a blinding veil of love.
Killing me with kindness
breaking me while whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

When I’m surrounded by love you make me feel alone.
When there’s Hope you make me see only the darkness that follows the light.
You make me see the shackles on my feet and not the ones in my mind.
You keep me a shallow husk of the man I could have been.
You let me fight just so I can see how hopeless i have become .

The life we made fell apart as you left me strandad on an island for two
I grew cold and built a pyre and on it i set a fire
I burnt all that we had created.
I burnt the songs created with love, drowned the poems I'd written in pain.

I had forgotten that they were not just words that we had written; they were worlds that we created.
I watched as my word drowned in a see of darkness. As yours burned an ever dwindling flame.
I watched as the world around me crumble as our poems are lost forever .

I’m a broken man in a broken world.
A world that we had created, that i have broken.

I have lived with a singular problem
for 5 years it has remained, at times I believe it to be gone
so used to the life I lead and the way I feel that this has become the norm.

my issue is self created and self sustained,
depression I caused and depression I cannot shake.
For a while it was gone the problems I had caused came to an end, I fixed the one I had broken and in doing so fixed myself.

But all must end and we both broke again with only myself to blame.

This depression is a problem ill never be free of, this seems to be it for me. The repressed nature I have fallen back into is tearing away at who I am. a shadow, a empty husk of a man . unreachable too all but one too all but you, but your far out of reach far away from me. I try my hardest to tear down this prison I am in afraid it will all be in vein. I sink into my depression that I have fought for years past afraid soon it'll be the end

I don't really know what you think insanity is. when you think insanity do you think of mass murders and people who see things where you do not ?

I see myself. I see my own mind and how scared of it I am .my own mind which was once my escape is now my biggest fear, I look inside and I am forced out.

My own mind is forcing me out is this insanity or is this normal.

Am I becoming just another blissfully ignorant fool incapable of depth .