Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
If I could draw a million dangos,
I would.
But I'd prefer to draw you.
It seems to be almost an obsession.
An impulse I need to tame.
Drawing how your hat sits across your ashen hair,
And your lips part in the sweetest smile.
Even sorrow suits you well,
As I wish to relieve you from your pain.
Such a kind soul should be drawn at least once,
Set in eternity through paper and ink.
If I could draw a million dangos I would,
But I'd prefer to draw you,
Time and time again.
Why is it that humans are such lonely creatures,
That we need something to mimic our feelings?
We need writing,
To prove through words that what we feel is real.
We need art,
To splatter a canvas with our emotions,
To create something that mimics what's inside our hearts.
We need music in order breath,
So that others can put into words,
Want we dare not say.
Yes,  humans are such lonely souls,
Who need only to realize that what we feel is real.
we're living?

then why dying sounds very lovely?
idk seriously
You say nothing as you watch me crumbling
Whispering a defiant 'i'm ok'
Tears streaming down my face
I'm not looking at you
You notice this
You say 'you're not'
I agree silently
I cannot find it within me to talk more
I am exhausted
I do not know how to explain how much i think about dying
I do not know how to seek help
But you know i am crumbling
You see
And you stare
Numbly blankly
Back at me
Hands in your pocket you do nothing
And i plead with you silently to help me
You notice this and you still stare
Numbly blankly
And then i collapse and i disappear
And you say 'what a shame. If only i had known'
And you walk away
No one ever told me
that love was suicide
 Nov 2016 zeph the deer boi
Emma
Sad
Underestimated
Irrational
Crying
Ignoring
Death
Excuses
When I started working fifty hours a week minimum
At eighteen years of age
My father told me he was proud of me
For the first time.
What he didn't know
Was that I had been chasing my depression away
By masking it with exhaustion.
There have been times where I have worked thirteen hour days,
Four days in a row
Only to come home too exhausted to eat.

I consider this a triumph.

I spend my days off thinking too much.
I think about how easy it is to buy a gun in this state,
How I wish it was more difficult
If only to erase one more burden from my mind.
I spend a lot of time buying make up
That I seldom ever wear.
I read every single issue of The Walking Dead comics up to the newest one
In two days
Because my mind frightens me more than fiction.
I think a lot about leaving here;
Not in a way that would constitute a cry for help
But more in a way that sits in my belly
Like liquor on a cold day.
I feel the urge, it is there,
But I simply carry it with me.
Fake smiles, but teary eyes.
Alone in my room crying at night.

i'm just gonna hide the scars with a sweater
can't tell them i don't actually feel better.

i'm so sad but i can't tell you why
"i'm just tired" is my favourite lie.

It's almost christmas and everyone's happy
But in winter time i just feel so ******

I don't know why i feel so bad
truth is i'm just another depressed sociopath
This is the 2. time i've been feeling great all summer and started getting depressed when winter came.... hope it's better next year
Next page