Day 7872 of my existence
I tried to end it all, but the
knife was not in reach and the scissors were much too dull
Regressed into my depression
No savior in sight
No organized religion will help me see the light
I'm convinced it is my fate to go blissfully in the night
Ignorance is bliss, but the wise are always jaded
they see how cold the world is and how you're never appreciated

You're on your own, alone, in the darkness, in the sorrow
You pay a person to listen to your problems, so you'll get through the day and hopefully make it until tomorrow
Nothing is ever free,
not even love from your family
It always comes with a price or a condition

A vulnerable, worn down person
To be used and abused is my norm
Listening to the rain, I identify with the storm
I feel it's aguish and its thirst to be heard, to have a voice
The calming effect that emerges afterwards is not resolution, but conceding to the fight
To lose that endless battle, that I won't come out of alive