the blunt edge of depression rolls across my portion of the sky it’s gonna rain again nobody can gauge when or why somebody help me I’m coming undone we all have secret sorrows I’ve had enough of mine I woke up into a nightmare I might never sleep again some have wounds that do not show but they bleed they bleed from the soul I’m not helpless – I’m hopeless they call it suicidal ideation my life is a burning building I may have to jump it’s burn or dive there is a terror beyond falling the choices here are stark
bipolar distemper is a side effect of living and living is a disease with one
cure and one cure alone I
won’t cry in public I won’t rend my
clothes I’ll weep on the
inside I’ll weep from my soul there’s no comfort to be had no magic pills my soul carries more scars than living tissue this is not sadness sadness will pass like the common
cold this is cancer a cancer of the soul I feel so ashamed to carry this burden I’ve done something wrong something so huge I can’t even comprehend it the devil has hold of my soul and from where I sit now he’s welcome to it
No comments:
Post a Comment