Depression


It’s the darkness under your bed

Lurking right behind your head

Racking up your brain, forcing you to think insane 

Giving rise to your fears, making you feel like shit

It’s the white spots you see when you close your eyes

Not wanting to see anything that reflects light

It’s the puny thoughts of failure, of being alone 

Which drag you down to your personal hell

And then they come and say 

“Hey, why are you so depressing?”

It’s not m

You, it’s that.

That thing which is dark, circling the drain, about to drown 

And you say, “I am sorry for spoiling your mood.”

While dying and withering away in the darkness which is your own. 

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It Is Simple


It is simple, if you ask me

There’s  a straight face, with a slight wrinkle

Faces make facade, make up is their war

Paint a smile, and away they go

Pretending, deceiving, all in sync 

Like a movie, slides changing 

Same message, different tone

The usual, the monotonous voice droning on 

It’s just a wrinkle on a smooth face.