I daydream constantly
because reality hurts.
I keep my eyes closed
because when I open them
I see everything I'll never achieve.
I keep my head up in space
because there, even in death there is beauty
but down here death is ugly,
as with each passing day.
.
I lock myself in my room
because the world is a horrible place.
I turn off the light-
because even this room shows humanity's true nature
I dare not look back at that mirror,
for even in the faintest of moonlight I can make out
the monster that stands in my place.
.
I spend each day in misery, because that is how I learned to be happy.
Happy hurts,
Happy is quick,
Like fleeting love
I hate the feeling
of losing something so quick.
I block it out.
I fill my aching body with unused, dusty tears.
I hear my body groan under the pressure but I do not let it out.
I do not let the misery out,
because then Happy will have a chance to seep through
but with Happy comes horror and sorrow
and other such I cannot bear.
Happy hurts more than this depression ever could,
so I've decided to be nothing but that.
I hold up each day in a wicked,
painful misery,
while others might say it unhealthy
I feel it as nothing but fuel,
nothing but quick snaps of the whip
that keep me going,
just barely alive,
hardly breathing,
stiff like a tin-man
-
I hide from what's real,
I hide from what's happy,
because Misery is the only thing keeping me here.