Poems past, borne
Of sadness and pain,
Bore beauty unimaginable
With every bit of joy slain.
Traumatic childhood;
Depressing teenage years;
Defensive adulthood;
Never once shedding tears.
Holding it all inside,
"Everything's fine"
I lied;
And tried to end this life of mine.
Beautiful poetry had its cost:
Friends, love, sanity all lost.
What I paid for most,
Was having to live with my own ghost.
I know I need help,
This depression is killing me.
Please, knock on my door,
Don't leave me be.
I want some form of salvation,
To escape from the sorrow.
Even at the cost of beauty,
I want for a better tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment