I want to be a writer
But my depression makes me tired

Never seen myself as much of a fighter
Maybe its just how im wired

Lighters set things on fire
Happiness feels like a liar

Why are the morning birds growing quieter
The walls in my head are closing tighter

Seeking help is feeling dire
Cause getting high doesnt feel any lighter

The holes are growing wider
Nothing to say cause i feel like a whiner

My mental health has priors
Im the guy struggling in the flyers

Ticking time bomb without a timer
Thats not drawn on red eyeliner

Cuts always heal a little finer
But I need my fire to burn brighter

Behind on my taxes
Got unpaid infractions
My arms full of over reactions
These aint scratches from silly little rashes
Im 25 but they say this **** passes
Im the host for which depression attaches
It makes me hate me with passion
Sometimes i feel happy but then it crashes
No reason to be sad my life isnt tragic

Does sadness have a limitation
Depressions done its best imitation
Most say its my own creation
But why would i create something so abrasive
Was i just born a little tainted
Or is this the story ive chosen to be painted
Does happiness follow the patiently waited
Does it make it to those who fake it
No part of me is ever shameless

Shame is me
Guilt chases me till i cant breathe
Its not deep enough if blood doesn't bleed
Ill never be free
Its sunken its teeth
Impossible to think
Let alone eat
Waking up beat
Makes you want to go back to sleep