I’m not a character in a book.
I’m not a roll in a play.
I’m not a lyric in a song.
I’m the same every day.
I dress and act the same as I always would,
Of course, it doesn’t mean I’ve become what I should.
My style and my routine never seem to fail,
My skin just grows more pale.
I’m starting to think I’m away from the world in a very bad way,
I’m starting to wonder where my sanity may lay.
The people who I have become close to are starting to fade,
The shadows around me begin to grow of a darker shade.
I wonder sometimes how I’ve gotten where I am today,
I wonder if my true self and depression will stay.
They say it’s a phase, they say it won’t last,
But so far it hasn’t gone away so fast.
I know it may be stupid,
I know it may be idiotic,
But my life is becoming quite chaotic.
My thoughts will blurr together as I sleep,
Though the dreams never seem that deep.
Perhaps my escape is now my fear,
It still would never cover every tear.
For once I think about others, not myself alone,
But still I don’t feel as though I have grown.
My heart is still a weak state of mind,
It will never change no matter how I am; even if I’m so kind.
Something hashappened and I can’t comprehend,
I just am praying for my wounds to mend.
I was thinking they would all on their own,
But really, I should have known;
They weren’t healing and they weren’t going away,
I’m afraid they are always here to stay.
I question as to why I was picked to bare this ‘disease’,
I’m simply watching as it takes over me.
Even now my writings don’t make sense,
I’m barely withstanding on the narrow fence.
I’m about to fall, as I always seem to do,
So I suppose, to me, this is nothing new.
I’ve stopped my cries of help and pleeding,
I’ve hidden the cuts and all the bleeding.
But still I feel as though someone will know,
I’m trying, I swear, to let go.
Still the scars hurt, even though they no longer remain open wide,
Though sealed, it doesn’t change how I feel inside.
I’m dealing on my own now as I pray,
But praying is no longer good when you have nothing left to say.
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The Forgotten
Whatever I feel.
If you can't see through another's eyes, don't say you aren't something because to them, you could be everything.