Loud music,
Quiet kids.
Black and blue bruises,
Swollen shut eyes.
Long sleeves,
Never ending demons.
Sad teens,
Bad feelings.
Loud voices in their head...
Nothing to be heard
Nothing to be said.
The kids keep quiet,
Hoping they will get cured.
The illness I’m describing is not something that’s easy to cure.
They tell you medication works...
But you still have those same sad thoughts...
But you still them then you’re fine,
Because you thought maybe if you said it enough, it will finally become true.
But it still hasn’t...
You’re screaming for help...
Loud as you can....
But nothing is coming out of your mouth...
This illness is called depression...
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
Loud music,
Quiet kids.
Black and blue bruises,
Swollen shut eyes.
Long sleeves,
Never ending demons.
Sad teens,
Bad feelings.
Loud voices in their head...
Nothing to be heard
Nothing to be said.
The kids keep quiet,
Hoping they will get cured.
The illness I’m describing is not something that’s easy to cure.
They tell you medication works...
But you still have those same sad thoughts...
But you still them then you’re fine,
Because you thought maybe if you said it enough, it will finally become true.
But it still hasn’t...
You’re screaming for help...
Loud as you can....
But nothing is coming out of your mouth...
This illness is called depression...
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