' 'Abuse' ; depression ; imagery ; death
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Death was calling for me, or was I calling for it?
Was it the shadow that loomed around us growing up or, was it the light we saw in the dark
Beneath the moon's pale glow A shadow creeps, so slow Through the mist it lingers A presence felt with icy fingers Whispers fill the night A haunting, spectral sight Trembling, you take a step Into the darkness, where shadows wept A ch
All my stress, makes such a mess.I can't clean it up. I wish my stress would die.And so do Iwish I could die.Really you askNo not reallywell maybe my stress is eating my aliveI might as well diveinto a pool and not come up.no no no you sayhow much
My Life
My life is sad
My life is struggling to take responsibility for its actions
My life is hard to look at
I shut my lips.
I stay silent.
Pretend that this world doesn't exist.
Trying to make myself forget.
And not that it matters.
I sorta feel bruised.
My heart is shattered.
This is it.
