I am the tear
That falls down your cheek,
I am the cold
That climbs up your spine,
I am the sharp
Edge that cuts your wrists,
I am the voice
Of your screams at night
I am the nails
That claw your lovely heart
I am the black
In the cloths you ware,
I am the darkness
In those beautiful green eyes,
I am the hands
That hide your sweet face, and
I am the demons
Playing in your head;
I am depression.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 1:13 AM UTC
I am the tear
That falls down your cheek,
I am the cold
That climbs up your spine,
I am the sharp
Edge that cuts your wrists,
I am the voice
Of your screams at night
I am the nails
That claw your lovely heart
I am the black
In the cloths you ware,
I am the darkness
In those beautiful green eyes,
I am the hands
That hide your sweet face, and
I am the demons
Playing in your head;
I am depression.
Request permission to use this poem