Screams can be heard

the obliterate stares of those

who don't have a clue

do they really 

do you


The bloody fingernails

scrape the chalk board

and the spine tingling sound

rings throughout the halls

and the fists begin to pound


the doors are broken open

and thereupon I stand

with my fingernails bleeding

and the cuts are turning red 

the demons are feeding


the black abyss I call my home

I crawl and scratch my way

to home, to hell

where I lay still in the screams

but still feel well



Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741