It stalks a poor vessel,
weighing them down like bags of wet sand
that slowly makes the victim sink
into an ocean of despair,
a sea of unworthy thoughts
they play symphonies of music in their minds
taunting them with every single "Clash," or "Bang," of a cymbal.
my heart skips a beat when I hear someone cry in antipathy
for themselves, its only a matter of days before the rapid currents will take you under,
waves crashing with caps so white they resemble cumulus clouds on a warm summers day
the only thing wrong with that is that some people never see these kinds of days
sitting in a trans looking at the world in all black and white with no in between
Doctors and psychiatrist drowning you in pills and you can't get away
because the day you see happiness is the day you lose a life,
You're own life.