I’m the void people think they feel in them
The obsession that keeps them up all night
They blame me whenever they feel so numb
I’m the hatred they try so hard to fight
I’m a mental illness they can’t escape
They just lay. They cry. They shiver, they shake
Flailing all about like a wild ape
Destroying each nerve, watch their bodies ache
No motivation to follow their dreams
The feeling that they don’t deserve this life
Paranoia, questioning all that seems
Some give up and reach, for help, to the knife
“Should I kill myself?” Their favorite question.
It’s not my fault. I’m just me. Depression
About the Creator
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