Depression

Black...
an endless solitude
roaming in eternal darkness...


because black was all that remained
from the colours that once shaped me
into who i was back then...
And, now, my veins are paper-thin
like fire, burning and stinging from within
invisible tears shattering in screams...


And i can't deny
feeling so alone at night
after turning off all light
And i cried...
and drown into screams of sorrow
until i died
a thousand times inside
and the demons i bear within were invite
to take control of what is mine
what i used to call life...

Black...
a forlorn river of dark waters
the flow of time between memories

Because memories were all to what i hang on
while the night hides a withering dawn
i watch myself falling into this hole...
And wearing this sadness on my skin
already feel the bloodflowers blooming from within
as i fade to commemorate your being


And despite that...
there's a light still beating in my eyes
i've already died
a thousand times inside
but i've built a wall that's so high
that my woe you would never divice
because into two parts i've been divided
an empty smiling puppet in one
and another just for me, so late and deep in night

Because i have my demon
and i feed it well
with my own flesh
it's name is depression...​

 

increíble

 

"And despite that...
there's a light still beating in my eyes
i've already died
a thousand times inside
but i've built a wall that's so high
that my woe you would never divice
because into two parts i've been divided
an empty smiling puppet in one
and another just for me, so late and deep in night"


The psychotic side of psychological pain. Drowning and hiding the truth of ourselves from the external beings.Graceful and doomed poem.Greetings from the void...