Morbid
Has there ever been a time you couldn't get out of bed?
Corrupted by your head, envision yourself dead.
Have you ever pictured yourself outside of these walls?
Victimized by your own imagination's flaws.
Did you ever think about the time that you have left behind?
Thoughts that only you have, none of them are kind.
Engrossed in my own world, I lock myself in.
The one who's worthy shall be able to slip in
but for now I'm all alone, left feeling rejected.
Perhaps this is a better way for no one else is affected.
I don't see what I have to offer to this giant world,
all I think is that I cause more harm than I do good.
If I wasn't here on earth it would be a better place,
a place filled with one less sorry face.
I often put myself down because I can not feel,
emotions such as love, which means they are not real.
The only thing that impacts me are knives and bullet wounds,
for then I'll see the blood and know that its the truth.
I haven't even be alive enough to witness what life has to give
and I already know that I would rather not live.
For then I'll cause no trouble or harm to anyone,
and everyone would carry on with one song less sung.
Have you ever woken up at 2 in the morning?
Haunted by your own dreams that you are left morbid.
Has the deadly thought ever crossed your mind,
to take away the most precious thing a human could ever find?
To travel six feet under and to never return,
have you ever thought of that or would or would you rather burn?
On days I wake up with a smile, I know it always fades away.
For happiness comes and go, sadness always stays.
Underneath my chest is a scar that barely beats, enough to keep me alive.
I'm so young, should be full of joy instead my body's cold.
I myself can never get that idea out of my thoughts,
it is always there even if I'm never caught,
attempting to take away my only chance to succeed.
A chance that I'll just blow, why do I think so low?
I often put myself down because I can not feel,
emotions such as love, which means they are not real.
The only thing that impacts me are knives and bullet wounds,
for then I'll see the blood and know that its the truth.
I haven't even be alive enough to witness what life has to give
and I already know that I would rather not live.
For then ill cause no trouble or harm to anyone,
and everyone would carry one with one song less sung.
I am beginning to believe that there is something seriously wrong with me, something that I've always known.
If you were to take a trip inside the depths of my mind,
you would explode with all the horrors you would find.
My cobwebs are spun by 8 layers of torture.
Inside, holding the evilest of evil
Protecting the outside world,
so no one else can get in
I often put myself down because I can not feel,
emotions such as love, which means they are not real.
The only thing that impacts me are knives and bullet wounds,
for then I'll see the blood and know that its the truth.
I haven't even be alive enough to witness what life has to give
and I already know that I would rather not live.
For then ill cause no trouble or harm to anyone,
and everyone would carry one with one song less sung.
As I go, I'll leave you all with one final question,
Is there anyone out there with a worse case of depression?!
-EvRost©