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Why is it life hides behind my shadow, and only bitterness is brave. I wish for my life to end, I sink in sorrow through puddles of tears. I am but a rose bud, not even bloomed . . . yet I want it end before I do bloom. Never to experiance love, want, satisfaction, ect. Those all lead to hate and sorrow. I do not wish to feel any more pain, none of which has to do with mental pain. I have been through enough, like an old tortured dog. What comes through pain, must lead to wisdom, why is it I can not seek out this wisdom, I am still but as perked as a freshly picked flower, but inside I remain rotted. The depths of my heart is but as heavy as tons, and i feel like sleeping, for sleep is when all your wants, wishes, and needs apear, for my dreams are as black and empty as a never ending whole, my dreams are the devil's playground, for which I tend to play in . . . every day . . .
Sighned A Depressed Soul.
 Kalimee · Tue May 22, 2007 @ 11:42pm · 1 Comments |
