So I guess I will right a poem about my best friend.
Her name is Em.
We go to church Wednesday nights.
Last time she sat towards my right.
She always has something interesting to say.
Is entertaining on boring days.
The first person I text in the morning.
Sometimes she writes first without warning.
She's the last person I text at night.
She helped show me the light.
Filled up my depressed life.
Never picked up a backstabbing knife.
Yes I completely trust her.
She makes me want to walk into the light further.
In a world full of hate and crime.
She makes everything alright and fine.
Yes she is Emily.
All to wish a friend could be.
I would never ask her to change.
Her mind need not rearrange.
She is perfect the way she is.
Thank you so much miss.
You crazy woman who stuck by my side.
Even when I was terrified.
I had been scared that you would judge but you never did.
You make me smile like a little kid.
Thanks for being there.
You with the short hair.
I wait for you every day.
But wordless I can never figure out what to say.
I guess that's okay though.
All I know.
Is your my friend Emily.
You are someone who actually sees.
Right through my shield.
Seeing what's real.
Thank you again.
I love you you crazy woman!!!

Hmm... Funny how depression rots your sole.
Funny how your young but you feel old.
It has its arms around me.
It's the only one who really can see.
Into my mind digging deep.
Talking to me, soothing me to sleep.
Reminding me of lines that used to be on my arms.
Reminding me of all the people who did harm.
Made me feel unloved.
Made me feel unwanted.
I needed you.
What did you do?
Walked out on me like everyone else.
Yeah the one girl said a chance was worth taking.
But why take chances when I'm the end you are breaking.
Well the last girl left me for dead.
Atleast said the voices in my head.
A little crazy?
I'd say a lot.
I can make it all go away with a single shot.
A bullet through my brain.
I guess dying in lititure relieves some of the pain.
I still cry every night.
Stopped cutting because someone said it wasn't right.
My wrists still bleed.
Only more internally.
It's only a blood I can see.
Nobody else really cared.
So here I am crying again scared.
Scared of tomarow.
Falling back into the sorrow.
My best friend slash obsession.
My friend named depression.