I am dead.

I died when my spirit gave up,

it's just that my hearts beating and I'm breathing.

I am a body.

A body that was tortured by this world,

that hides the depression because of the judgement

a sad lump just doing the forced path of life.

I am not here.

A new thing is here,

one that has taken over my life,

controlling my every movement,

because I have given up.

Depression is here, and again it has claimed another tired, weary, lifeless soul.