Symptoms
things aren’t bad
when any malleable silver is my friend
things are bad
when pills looks like
tic tacs
something’s gotta give
i am crying like hell
i laugh in front of you
it’s 1:27 p.m.
i’m enticed
i trip over the edge
i don’t eat
i’m fed up with life
full of angst
i am depressed and i make jokes about being depressed
they’re so hilariously true
existence is unbearable
i’m exhausted on 10 hours of sleep
too weak to hug
back
my arms loosely around your waist
you’ll have to hold me up while i lay
limp
This poem is about:
Me