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Thomam111Poems
I sit here wearing my perfection suit, Crying for no understandable reason, But society doesn't see this, I cry behind my suit, Inside my secret world, In a deserted island, With shores so high there is no rocket that could reach the land, With an impenetrable castle, Inside a small room in the centre, I sit here hidden from society and I cry, I cry scared of the judgements filled into my tiny ****** life, I get up wondering why, I go to bed staying awake digging a hole of thought to tomorrow, "But you don't have depression" They convince me for another day, I'll stay up tonight drawing blood with a pencil, Writing down my imperfections on my skin,, If my parents see they assume I'm just copying the rest of society, So I try to wear my perfection suit, I'm finding it hard when thoughts are everywhere, Even with the loudest of music doesn't work anymore, Bridges scare me now every time I step on one my gears in my head start spinning, I throw up over the railings unable to hold my emotions in, I run home as my depression grows and begins tearing my perfection suit apart, All of those people staring at me, Judging me and my imperfections, I run across the street hoping, Empty, I run on faster getting rid of the joy of ending it all today, I run into my house and up to my room, Alone, The doctor hands me pills, I take the bottle and as I leave I place it back on the counter, So mush me with drugs, therapy, yoga, dance, you can't make my disease go away, It has infected me, I am stained with thoughts that will never go away, So to whom ever tries to "minimize" depression, Leave them be you only make them think deeper every time you say a word.
0
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
Diagnosing depression
I sit here wearing my perfection suit, Crying for no understandable reason, But society doesn't see this, I cry behind my suit, Inside my secret world, In a deserted island, With shores so high there is no rocket that could reach the land, With an impenetrable castle, Inside a small room in the centre, I sit here hidden from society and I cry, I cry scared of the judgements filled into my tiny ****** life, I get up wondering why, I go to bed staying awake digging a hole of thought to tomorrow, "But you don't have depression" They convince me for another day, I'll stay up tonight drawing blood with a pencil, Writing down my imperfections on my skin,, If my parents see they assume I'm just copying the rest of society, So I try to wear my perfection suit, I'm finding it hard when thoughts are everywhere, Even with the loudest of music doesn't work anymore, Bridges scare me now every time I step on one my gears in my head start spinning, I throw up over the railings unable to hold my emotions in, I run home as my depression grows and begins tearing my perfection suit apart, All of those people staring at me, Judging me and my imperfections, I run across the street hoping, Empty, I run on faster getting rid of the joy of ending it all today, I run into my house and up to my room, Alone, The doctor hands me pills, I take the bottle and as I leave I place it back on the counter, So mush me with drugs, therapy, yoga, dance, you can't make my disease go away, It has infected me, I am stained with thoughts that will never go away, So to whom ever tries to "minimize" depression, Leave them be you only make them think deeper every time you say a word.
Thomam111
Written by
Thomam111
22
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
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