Dec 2015
My long time friend, he has returned, laying pain, upon my heart. And on my chest, my head, my mind. He is back, this time worse, no one's here. Wish I wasn't.
This is my curse.
Ignore this, for it is not a poem. Just something to ease my mind.
This is my curse.
Ignore this, for it is not a poem. Just something to ease my mind.
Depression, it's always here, but it gets increasingly worse at times, in waves, of excruciating pain. I want to be dead, you say your here no matter what, but why do I feel it's the complete opposite.
