The razor is her paint brush,
the canvas is her skin.
But she will never win
the battle in her head,
because soon she will be dead.

Ode to Depression
You live in my head.
You're worse then the monsters,
under my bed.
I hate when you control me,
you don't even know me.
Why do you make me feel the way I feel?
I will never heal,
from all the pain.
You're so lame.

She tried to ask for help,
everyone thought she was pretending.
But soon she would be ending,
all of the pain
that was inside her brain.
She was insane.