Too many tears I have cried,
too many times I’ve had to lie.
Still with my heart tightly closed,
concealing truths I myself don’t know.
Every second, strangled by a silent scream,
however “just fine” that I may seem.
Watching, spilling my own blood,
all the while drowning beneath depressions’ flood.
Decaying, wasting, dying, useless,
this destructive pain is my only bliss.
So in love with that straight red line;
you can’t see the warnings, the notices, the signs?
And I’m still here, still bleeding,
the desire of life forever receding.