Depression . . .
It's like a deep, dark hole that just goes down
. . . and down . . . and down.
It's like someone locked you in a big room
with no light
. . . no one with you
. . . no windows
. . . the door has no handle
. . . there is no way out unless someone
opens the door from the outside.
No one understands you, so no one can help.
You keep your feelings and thoughts to yourself,
and that is your biggest problem.
Death will come . . . sooner or later
. . . it may be natural or it may be
by your own hand.
No one knows . . . no one cares.
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Is it the death of a life or
maybe the death of a soul
or is it the death of a love?
Fly evil black bird, FLY!
For I see death in your eye.
Black is the color of evil and mystery
but isn't life itself a mystery.
If love is all I have to live for . . .
then I have no real reason to live.
For life without love and dreams is nothing
but an end less void . . .
a hopeless dreamer and a worthless lover.
I am but a shadow of a person for I can not live
and I can not die . . .
death is a sweet void.
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